


Seconds

by bokuakabeam



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji-centric, Alternate Universe - College/University, American Football, Anxiety, Cheating, College, Dating, Drinking, Drinking Games, Explicit Sexual Content, Heavy Drinking, House Party, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Overworking, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Tennis, mature language, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24544567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokuakabeam/pseuds/bokuakabeam
Summary: Once they were done, with the briefest of kisses and an even briefer goodbye, Akaashi made sure to remember every glance, every lingering touch on the dips and crevices of his skin. Because if there was one thing true about Bokuto’s reputation on campus, it was this:Bokuto Koutarou didn’t come back for seconds.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji/Tsukishima Kei, Hinata Shouyou/Kuroo Tetsurou, Hinata Shouyou/Tsukishima Kei, Hinata Shouyou/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Terushima Yuuji/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 81
Kudos: 293





	1. Unprecedented Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bracing himself for hitting the floor, Akaashi was surprised when he instead landed against something bulky and warm. 
> 
> “Careful there, slick.” Akaashi quickly looked up, the rumble of the man’s voice making him shiver against his skin. 
> 
> If he wasn’t so embarrassed, Akaashi could have considered this a meet-cute situation. However, when he met the eyes of the notorious football player Bokuto Koutarou, he quickly scrambled into an upright position.

Akaashi’s muscles strained as he ran across the court, bending at the knees to retrieve the ball before it hit the ground, sending it back over the net with a _whack_ from his racket. Even though it was a practice match, Akaashi wouldn’t let his eyes leave the ball for a second. He wanted to win, he _needed_ to win. And with another precise hit from his teammate, the whistle was blown, and the match was over. They’d won.

“Hey, good job, Keiji!” His teammate, Hinata, bounded over. His normally fluffy orange hair was matted to his forehead and neck with sweat, and he haphazardly swiped at his brow, making the hair stick up randomly. “We kicked their asses!”

  
Akaashi hummed as he walked over to his gym back, pulling his towel from it and dabbing at his face and neck. “Hm, we did. But we also made some mistakes. We need to work on some of our cross-court shots.”

The fire in Hinata’s eyes lit up, and Akaashi knew he’d gotten to the shorter man. That was what made Hinata his favorite teammate, and best friend: he was always willing to keep up with Akaashi’s level of determination to the sport, no matter what. With a short nod, Hinata bounded off towards his bag, which he’d carelessly discarded to the side of the court right before the match had started. Akaashi made sure his upper body was free of sweat before shoving his towel back into the bag, slinging it over his shoulder and making his way over to the redhead to continue their conversation.

“Hey!” Akaashi turned just as he reached Hinata, giving a small smile to their previous opponents.

“Hello Tsukishima, Yamaguchi,” Akaashi greeted them both with a slight bow of his head.

“You guys did great!” Yamaguchi grinned, looking between Akaashi and Hinata as Tsukishima took a long drink from his water bottle.

“Thank you, so did you, Tadashi!” Hinata bounced on the balls of his feet at the praise. “That last point you guys got, the ball was like _whoosh_ and then it hit the ground with a _wham_! It was so fast, I couldn’t even react!”

Tsukishima snorted at Hinata’s description but said nothing, instead nodding at them all before turning towards the locker rooms.

“What’s his problem?” Hinata grumbled as the three remaining watched Tsukishima walk away.

“Sorry. But you know Tsukki, he’s a sore loser,” Yamaguchi said apologetically, but it wasn’t anything that they weren’t used to. The four of them had been playing tennis together for three years now, having met during their freshman year of university and not parting ways since.

“Yeah, but he needs to pull the stick out of his ass and be a good sport for once!” Hinata stomped his foot, and Akaashi grinned at his friend’s childishness. Akaashi was next to follow in Tsukishima’s footsteps, hefting his bag further up his shoulder and making his way towards the locker rooms. He really wanted to shower.

“Maybe he just needs to get laid,” Akaashi tossed the idea over his shoulder, grinning at his two friends’ appalled expressions.

“He has a hand for a reason!” Yamaguchi shouted at the same time Hinata said, “Well I can’t help him with that!”

The smell of the locker room hit him before he even breached the entrance, the overwhelming odor of sweat, grass, and just a hint of mold filling Akaashi’s senses. It was a familiar smell, and Akaashi welcomed it with every passing day. He quickly discarded his gym bag and made his way to a free shower stall, gripping his large towel and change of clothes. The water cascaded down his burning skin, and it was at this moment that Akaashi realized how sore his muscles were. There was nothing he wanted more than to pass out right there on the tile floor, but he remained standing, letting the salt and sweat from his skin wash down the drain beneath him.

Just as he was finishing cleansing himself, a loud bang from the lockers jolted him to attention. Loud voices started filling the adjacent room, the slamming of fists against metal making Akaashi jolt with every slam. With an internal groan, Akaashi quickly finished up and patted himself dry, just barely enough so his clothes wouldn’t stick to his skin once he got dressed. He got his boxers on with no problem, but as he struggled to shove his leg into the tight skinny jeans, he found himself stumbling on the slick shower tile. Bracing himself for hitting the floor, Akaashi was surprised when he instead landed against something bulky and _warm_.

“Careful there, slick.” Akaashi quickly looked up, the rumble of the man’s voice making him shiver against his skin.

If he wasn’t so embarrassed, Akaashi could have considered this a meet-cute situation. However, when he met the eyes of the notorious football player Bokuto Koutarou, he quickly scrambled into an upright position.

“Uh… S-Slick?” Akaashi asked, cringing at how stiff he sounded.

“Your hair,” Bokuto moved his hand in the air around his own hair, miming that Akaashi’s hair was slicked back from the shower water.

“Ah. Well, er. Thank you for, you know. Preventing me from getting a concussion.” Akaashi only just realized that he was still almost fully naked, bouncing on one foot to get his pants on before further embarrassing himself.

It seemed that Bokuto didn’t have that problem. He shamelessly stood in the shower room with just a towel draped loosely around his waist, holding his belongings in one hand with his other hand still outstretched as if to make sure Akaashi was steady before dropping it. Akaashi couldn’t help the blush that spread from his cheeks and down to his neck as he took in the man’s appearance, struggling to drag his gaze away so he could drag his shirt on over his torso.

“Don’t worry about it, cutie. It’s not every day that an angel falls into my arms,” Bokuto winked, walking away and leaving Akaashi dumbfounded.

“U-Uh, Akaashi!” He shouted after the quickly retreating man, earning a look of confusion tossed over those broad shoulders.

“What?”

  
“My name. Akaashi.”

“Ah,” Bokuto hummed as he nodded his head slowly, finally realizing the meaning behind Akaashi’s outburst. “Alright. See you soon, ‘Kaashi.”

With that, Bokuto disappeared into a shower stall, leaving Akaashi standing barefoot on the damp flooring, mouth gaping in an aborted attempt at further conversation. After taking a moment to compose himself, Akaashi shook his head as if to clear any remaining thoughts of the interaction, gathered his belongings, and dashed back into the locker room.

“Were you just talking to Bokuto Koutarou or do I need a new prescription?” Tsukishima questioned, his voice barely above a mumble as the two collected their things from their lockers.

“Your prescription’s fine,” Akaashi answered, keeping his gaze trained on the task at hand rather than see the scrutinizing glare from his bespectacled friend.

“Mhm, so what’s that about? You two fucking or something?” Akaashi froze at the insinuation, finally standing up straight to look Tsukishima in his teasing eyes.

“Absolutely _not_. He didn’t even know my name until about ten seconds ago.” Akaashi wrapped his arms around his torso, partially offended at the suggestion. He was not that kind of person.

“That’s never stopped Bokuto before,” Tsukishima teased, earning another withering glare from the raven-haired man.

“What’s with the third degree?”

“No interrogation here, I swear. Just curiosity.”

  
“Yeah, well you know what happened to the cat.”

“At least he got that sweet, juicy gossip before croaking.” Despite his efforts not to, Akaashi grinned at that, slapping at Tsukishima’s shoulders.

“No gossip here, sorry to disappoint. I almost fell, he caught me, and then he left. That’s it.” Akaashi ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to hide his distress. His hair was no longer slicked back, but instead hung in loose, drying curls around his face and at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, that is disappointing. Guess you’ll have to sleep with him so I can hear about it, eh?”

Akaashi sputtered, slamming his locker shut and slinging his school backpack over his shoulders. “As if!”

  
“What? Don’t act like I didn’t notice that semi you were sporting when you came out of the showers!”

“Shut up, Tsukishima. As if _I_ didn’t notice the semi _you_ were sporting while you watched a certain redhead warm up earlier.”

  
Akaashi was content at the amount of blush that covered Tsukishima cheeks at that moment, and stuck his tongue out at him. Finally, a way to put Tsukishima Kei in his place. He’d have to take advantage of that sometime.

“Whatever, let’s go,” Tsukishima mumbled, clearing his throat and speed-walking past Akaashi. With a triumphant grin, Akaashi followed close on the taller man’s heels, rounding the corner to meet up with Yamaguchi and Hinata, who had skipped their shower that day.

“I’m starving!” Hinata whined, clutching his stomach and adding a wail for good measure.

“You ate breakfast, didn’t you?” Tsukishima asked, tilting his head down to glare at the redhead. The four friends fell in a line, walking towards the main campus together.

“Well, if you count some apple juice, then absolutely!” Hinata nodded profusely, shooting a teasing grin up at the blond.

“You need to start eating better if you want to remain healthy and in-shape, Shouyou.” Tsukishima was reprimanding Hinata, who ducked his head down in shame, but Akaashi could read the concern laced in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever dad,” Hinata grumbled before skipping up ahead. “Tadashi! C’mon, you can buy me some pretzels!”

“Oh, I _can_?” Yamaguchi grinned, jogging to catch up with Hinata and taking his hand, their fingers twining together. Akaashi peered to his right, seeing Tsukishima’s face fall as their two friends went on ahead towards the cafeteria.

“Y’know, they’ve been together for a couple months now…” Akaashi started, trailing off when he realized that he didn’t know how to continue.

“I know.”

“Well have you talked to either of them? Tadashi especially? He’s been your friend longer than any of us—“

  
“What good will that do? They’re together and that’s that.” Tsukishima was blunt, but Akaashi could read in his features that this conversation was doing more hurting than helping. So with a snap of his jaw, Akaashi silenced any further comment he was about to make, and the two walked towards the cafeteria.

When they reached the large building, the overwhelming smell of different cuisines instantly filled Akaashi’s senses, and he felt his mouth begin to water. He must have been hungrier than he was letting on, if the rumbling in his stomach was anything to go by. He followed close on Tsukishima’s heels as they got in line to purchase some food, quickly scooping up a salad to pay for, his eyes scanning the open tables.

“Do you see where they went?”

Instantly, Tsukishima nodded his head in the direction of the far east corner of the room, and Akaashi saw a glimpse of fluffy orange hair peeking out between the crowds of people. Akaashi knew that Tsukishima always kept a close eye on Hinata, especially since the redhead tended to get lost more often than not, and that skill often came in handy when Hinata inevitably ran up ahead of them. He hummed in lieu of a response, and as soon as they both purchased their items, they began to make their way to Hinata and Yamaguchi.

The two were at a small circular table, but their food took up almost the entire table. Tsukishima pulled a chair out for Akaashi before plopping down in his own chair, his glare making the remaining three friends refrain from speaking to him.

“Hey, ‘Kaash, you want a pretzel?” Hinata thrusted the bag of pretzels into Akaashi’s face, his mouth full and his voice muffled. Akaashi grimaced as pieces of pretzel crumbled from the redhead’s lips, but quickly replaced it with a polite smile.

“No thank you, Shou. Besides, those are your _love_ pretzels from Tadashi.”

  
“ _Love_?” Hinata quickly snapped his head towards Yamaguchi whose face flooded with color.

“L-Love?” Yamaguchi squeaked out, shaking his head and holding his hands up in defense. “W-We haven’t, er. Well, it’s only been a couple months—“

  
“Three months,” Akaashi reminded him, hiding his amused smile behind his hand.

“Th-Three months? Really?” Yamaguchi stammered, clearing his throat.

  
“I like Tadashi, but I-I don’t think…” Hinata began before his voice diminished, and both boys looked at each other in dismay.

“Calm down you two, I’m kidding. Jesus,” Akaashi snorted, prodding at his salad with his plastic fork. “You’d think that after three months you two would be more relaxed about the L word.”

“Lesbians?” Tsukishima spoke up at that, finally looking up from his food with a bored look.

“Lasagna!” Hinata blurted out, relief washing over his face at the abrupt change of subject.

“Lizard.”

  
“Ladybug.”

  
“Lollipop.”

The four spent the remainder of the hour listing off every L word they knew. Akaashi liked teasing the two younger boys, and he knew that Tsukishima felt the same way. However, he was always glad when the conversation seemed to flow from awkward to comfortable with hardly any struggle. That’s what always drew him to the three other men during their freshman year. Hinata was an easy friend to make, seeing as he befriended anything with a pulse, and his sunny disposition was difficult to turn down. Yamaguchi, while not quite as outgoing as Hinata, was also accessible and kind, and always made Akaashi feel like he could be an open book with the man without any judgement. It was Tsukishima that was harder to pinpoint, even with Yamaguchi’s assertion that he was actually all bark and no bite. However, it was over their love and dedication to tennis where Akaashi and Tsukishima bonded, eventually leading into their close friendship. Now that they were in their final year, the four friends were inseparable, spending several hours a day together even outside of tennis practice.

“Hey, Tadashi, I’m gonna head home. See you in a bit, yeah?” Tsukishima broke the chain of L words first, standing up and collecting the trash that was scattered all over the table.

“What? But it’s barely past noon! We could go catch a movie or something,” Yamaguchi frowned, looking up at the blond.

“Yeah, c’mon Tsukki! Let’s go do something fun!” Hinata bounced in his seat, his excitement coming off of him in waves.

“No thank you, I’ll see you all tomorrow. Tadashi, see you at home.” Tsukishima nodded once, politely, keeping his face neutral as he walked away. Akaashi watched the hunch of his shoulders, glancing to see if the other two had noticed the obvious sadness emanating from their friend, but to no avail.

“Yeah, actually, Shou? I think I’m gonna head to the library. I have some studying I need to do for my psych class.” Akaashi stood as well, putting the lid back on his barely-touched salad.

“You hardly ate, Keiji,” Yamaguchi’s frown deepened.

“Could you swing by the house and drop it off for me?” Akaashi asked Hinata, who smiled and nodded.

  
“Sure thing, Keiji! I’ll see you at home later, right? We can grab dinner from somewhere, maybe?”

  
“Sounds like a plan.” Akaashi gave them both a small smile, sliding the salad over to Hinata before slinging his bag over his shoulder.

He did have a psych test coming up, but he just wanted to give the couple some time to themselves. It wasn’t uncommon for Yamaguchi and Hinata to be interrupted by Akaashi or Tsukishima, especially seeing as how their living arrangements didn’t line up with their relationship. Yamaguchi lived with Tsukishima, and Hinata lived with Akaashi, so there was hardly time for them to get alone time together. Of course, there was the occasional incidents, such as when Akaashi had walked in on Yamaguchi balls deep in Hinata on their _shared_ kitchen table.

That was prior to their discussion of boundaries and cleanliness, among other things.

Akaashi shivered at the thought, shaking his head to clear the intrusive thoughts as he made his way through the throngs of people flooding the cafeteria.

“Oof!” Akaashi’s breath was knocked out of him and he was flung against the wall, his back hitting it with a soft thud. “What the fu—?”

“Sorry! I didn’t see you there,” the voice was deep, and Akaashi met hazel eyes. “Oh! You’re the one that Kou ran into in the bathroom earlier, right?”

Akaashi’s face reddened, and he cleared his throat as he straightened himself, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

  
“Are you always this clumsy, or are you trying to feel us up?” The man teased, his voice thickly laced with amusement and his face plastered into a smirk.

Akaashi scoffed, meeting the cat-like gaze once again. “You’re the one that bumped into me, so same question to you. You trying to cop a feel? If anything, you slammed me up against the wall, so your intentions were clearly not innocent.”

The man’s eyebrows quirked before he let out a bark of laughter. “Hey, you’re feisty. I like that. Actually, I’m more interested in your friend, if you wanna slide him my number.”

“My friend? Which one? I’m not a hermit, I have more than one.” He had three friends, so at least he had two more than a hermit.

He snorted before looking back at the table Akaashi had just left. “Your little redhead over there. I’ve seen you guys around campus. He seems like a fun time.”

“Well ‘my little redhead’ has a boyfriend, if you couldn’t already tell,” he said, gesturing back towards the table. Hinata and Yamaguchi were dangerously close to one another, gazing into each other’s eyes like nobody else in the world mattered.

Gross.

Akaashi scrunched his nose at the man as he appraised his appearance. What was the deal with his hair? Did he style it that way, or was there some kind of tragic accident between the football field and the cafeteria? Could that be considered helmet-hair? Surely not, with the obscure way it stuck up in the back.

“You like what you see, ‘Kaashi?”

“It’s _Akaashi._ ”

“Yeah, whatever. Listen,” the man slid a piece of paper into Akaashi’s hands before backing off, giving him space to breathe air that wasn’t overly tainted with his cologne. “Name’s Kuroo Tetsurou. Just give Shorty my number. It’ll be up to him whether or not to use it.”

“And why would I do that, knowing he has a boyfriend?”

“Because I’ll give you Kou’s number in return.”

Akaashi looked up at Kuroo, incredulous. “And who said I _wanted_ Bokuto’s number? You know, you jocks are all the fucking same. Not everybody is falling to their knees begging to suck you off, you know.”

Kuroo’s smirk fell, surprise overtaking his features. “Y-Yeah, I know that.”

Akaashi slapped the paper onto Kuroo’s chest, shouldering his backpack in a huff. “Give Hinata your number yourself, I’m not a messaging service.”

He was quick to turn on his heel and walk briskly away, only feeling a slight triumph in Kuroo’s aghast expression. Akaashi hadn’t meant to get as loud as he did, but the cockiness that he always witnessed in the football players alone was enough to make his blood boil.

That was twice today that he’s bumped into the football players, and Akaashi had no more fight left in him. Their practice match from this morning and his outburst at Kuroo had zapped all his energy, and he fleetingly wished he’d eaten his salad. But with a newfound desire to _never see another football player again_ , he went to the one place he never saw them.

The library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bokuakabeam)


	2. Noticed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi tried to clear his mind of anything but his psych notes. 
> 
> Tried being the operative term, here. He tried to clear his mind, but there was something persistent nagging at the back of his head.
> 
> Literally. He could feel something every so often hitting the back of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw // mentions of sex
> 
> For this chapter, there are a couple mentions of sexual activity, so just watch out for that if you're wary about reading stuff like that. But it's not too explicit! But of course that's tagged too, just wanted to make sure I take precautions for anybody reading :)

Akaashi’s eyes were straining as he slid them across words in the textbooks splayed out on the table in front of him. The air surrounding him smelled of old books and stale Fritos, and it was almost deafeningly quiet aside from the occasional flutter of papers or clacking from a distant laptop keyboard. The sun had long since gone down, and he knew that he was overworking himself by staying at the library for so long, but another part of him felt unprepared for his classes tomorrow. The library didn’t close until 2am, however, and he was determined for the first time to make it until closing. He could sleep when he’s dead, right?

Which, based on how he was feeling from lack of food and entertainment, he wished would come sooner rather than later.

He pulled his phone from the front pocket of his backpack — he learned very quickly that if he didn’t hide it away from himself that he would be too tempted to check it every few minutes — to check the time. It was nearing 1am now, which meant that he only had a little more than an hour to cram before he could stagger home and fall into bed. Rolling his shoulders back with a loud crackle of the bones, Akaashi tried to clear his mind of anything but his psych notes.

_Tried_ being the operative term, here. He _tried_ to clear his mind, but there was something persistent nagging at the back of his head.

Literally. He could feel something every so often hitting the back of his neck. It wasn’t something that demanded his immediate attention, at first he thought it was just a strong draft from an air vent or a mosquito that had tried and failed to bite at his skin, but now he knew. Someone was trying to get his attention. The vein in his temple throbbed as he tried to ignore it, focusing on the words that kept blurring on the papers in front of him.

“Pssst.”

Akaashi dropped his highlighter exasperatedly, pushing his reading glasses up to his forehead as he scrubbed his eyes harshly with the heels of his palms.

“Hey, ‘Kaashi, pssst!”

Oh, God. That voice. That nickname. There’s no way that he could be here—

“‘KAASHI!”

Akaashi whipped around in his seat with a deep blush and a glare pointed at the offender, and he was met with a wide grin. “What the _fuck_ is it?”

“I was worried you were deaf or something, I’ve been psst’ing you for like an hour now,” Bokuto’s grin only widened as Akaashi’s eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“You have not.”

“You lookin’ at porn or something?”

“What?” Akaashi’s eyes turned into saucers, causing the football player to laugh loudly.

“All I’m trying to say is that you were really invested in whatever you were looking at.”

“It’s not po— It’s psychology.”

“Ah, like brain shit?” Bokuto leaned further back in his chair, his head hanging over the back of it as he tried to keep eye contact with Akaashi.

“Brain shit,” Akaashi repeated incredulously. “Psychology is the study of brain shit, is that what you just asked me?”

“Well, not in so many words, I was more crude about it if we’re being honest,” Bokuto stuck his tongue out slightly, cheekily, and Akaashi had to look away to hide a smile.

He was not going to give Bokuto Koutarou the satisfaction of making him laugh. Although, if he happened to catch on, he could blame it on the lateness of the night.

“What are you doing here, anyway? I never see any of you jocks in the library,” Akaashi asked, already starting to shake his head as Bokuto moved from the chair behind him to the empty chair at Akaashi’s table. The taller man spun the chair backwards before straddling it, resting his head on his crossed arms. “No, I didn’t say you could sit here.”

“You didn’t _not_ say it either, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto smiled, raising his eyebrows in challenge. “Also, I’m always in the library. I eat, live, and breathe books.”

Akaashi scoffed, disbelieving. “Yeah, right. Then why have I never seen you here?”

“Maybe because you’re so into learning about brain shit that you never noticed,” Bokuto teased, tilting his head in a gesture towards the several textbooks Akaashi had splayed all over the table. “I’ve seen you here a lot though, you know? You’re nice to look at.”

It felt as if his brain was short-circuiting, and Akaashi couldn’t seem to form coherent words, opening and closing his mouth before snapping it shut with a glare. He’d flustered Akaashi, and if Bokuto’s proud expression was anything to go by, he knew it too.

“You always sit over here,” Bokuto started, gesturing toward the area around them. “Close to the bathrooms, maybe so you can hope to run into another football player—“

“Fuck off,” Akaashi mumbled, fiddling with his fingers in his lap.

“Or maybe because you have bladder problems, I dunno, I don’t know your life. But you always sit over here, and you occasionally get up and get a coffee from the machine over there—“

“Stalker much?”

“I told you, you’re nice to look at,” Bokuto answered honestly, shrugging his shoulder. “I’ve seen you on the tennis courts too. You’re really good.”

Furrowing his brows, Akaashi met Bokuto’s intense gaze, and he wasn’t sure if it was the late hour or the way Bokuto seemed to smile about _everything_ , but Akaashi felt at ease. Bokuto was… Really pretty.

“Thanks, Bokuto.”

“Hey, how’d you know my name? I never told you,” Bokuto asked sincerely, leaning forward more in his seat.

“I’ve seen you around too, you know.”

“Stalker much?” Bokuto teased, earning another eye roll from Akaashi. “Where have you seen me?”

“Mainly on the football field,” Akaashi shrugged one of his shoulders, refusing to meet that golden gaze again. “Sometimes in the lunchroom, I guess, too.” Akaashi’s voice felt thick in his throat as he continued to babble, snapping his jaw shut so he wouldn’t further embarrass himself.

“Ah,” Bokuto nodded to himself. “Well, hopefully now you can notice me in here too.”

Akaashi just nodded silently, watching as Bokuto stretched in his seat and rubbed his eyes with a wide yawn. He was wearing a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, but he somehow made it look _so_ good, the muscles in his arms stretching the black fabric as he moved.

“C’mon, it’s late. Lemme walk you home,” Bokuto murmured, leaning in closer so their faces were only a few inches apart. Akaashi could feel his face heat up, and he quickly looked away, putting distance between the two as it was suddenly getting harder to breathe.

“Uh, no. I’m good, thanks.”

“It’s late, ‘Kaashi. The library is closing in like twenty minutes anyway, it’s dark, and a pretty guy like you walking home alone? Not a good combination.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll manage, thanks.” Akaashi started gathering his things, silently cursing himself for wasting so much time arguing with Bokuto. He was already mentally preparing for an argument, not knowing Bokuto very much but already sensing that the man was stubborn enough to continue to fight him on this.

“Alright, suit yourself then, ‘Kaashi!” Bokuto bounced out of his seat and over to his own table behind Akaashi, throwing several books into his backpack.

Before Akaashi could say anything else to Bokuto, the man was already dashing out of the building throwing a quick ‘see you later!’ over his shoulder, leaving him frozen in slight shock at the abrupt change. Akaashi stood in place, bag slung haphazardly over his shoulder as he went over their conversation in his mind. Finally, after a brief moment of reflection, he shook his head and began the long walk to the opposite side of campus, where his and Hinata’s apartment was. Fleetingly, as the wind of the early morning air whipped at his exposed neck, Akaashi wished he’d taken Bokuto up on his offer. It was dark and the campus was dimly lit, but this fifteen to twenty minute walk was something Akaashi had grown accustomed to. So with a huff of breath and a tug of his shirt collar, Akaashi made his way home.

As his shoes scuffed along the sidewalk with each drag of his feet, Akaashi let his mind wander. First he thought of the practice matches that he and Hinata had played this morning, going through each of their plays on repeat as he tried to figure out where they needed to improve. They were already steadily improving from their performance at regionals last year — a heartbreaking defeat where they’d gotten third place — and Akaashi truly believed that if they continued with their progress, they could take the win. They _had_ to take the win. It was their last year at university; if they didn’t win this year, it was their last chance. So as he walked he thought, going over new exercises and stretches they could do to better utilize their flexibility and talents. Thoughts flitted through the forefront of his mind, and images of Hinata and the tennis court started to dissipate while new ones invaded.

How those large, calloused hands would feel against his skin, running down the side of his exposed torso. How his fingers would grip at hips and thighs, anything to ground themselves but pull their bodies closer, flush against each other. How those golden eyes would fixate on Akaashi’s face, drinking in every whimper and gasp as their bodies writhed together—

Akaashi aggressively shook his head, eyes widening as he realized what he’d been thinking about. His jeans were _uncomfortably_ tight now, to put it lightly, and he willed himself to calm down as his apartment building came into view. Even with the late hour, there was no guarantee that Hinata wouldn’t be up and waiting since Akaashi had already bailed on him for dinner. How embarrassing would it be to come home with a hard-on with no explanation other than ‘those textbooks just _really_ got to me today’?

The walk seemed to take almost twice as long, and Akaashi wasn’t sure if it was just movements that were sluggish due to overexerting himself — a common occurrence, he was beginning to realize — or if it was because the chill in the air seemed to drag out the time. Either way, he finally was ascending the stairs to their second-floor apartment, fumbling with his keys in frozen fingers before shoving the right one into the lock.

The apartment was dark. Was Hinata asleep? Akaashi peeked into the living room and kitchen, not seeing any movement or sight of the redhead, so he could assume so. His stomach again loudly alerted him that he was starving, having not eaten hardly anything that day, so Akaashi quietly set to work. He pulled his salad from the refrigerator, sending a silent thank you to Hinata for keeping to his word, and set it out on their small kitchen table to eat after he changed into his pajamas. Lugging his bag into his room, noticing the dim light coming out from underneath Hinata’s bedroom door, Akaashi flung himself onto his bed, exhausted. Before he could even drag himself out of bed and begin to undress himself, he heard it.

“ _Oh, Tadashi—_ “

For fucks sake.

“Guys, c’mon, it’s like three in the morning,” Akaashi mumbled to himself, throwing his arm over his face as the springs from Hinata’s bed began to creak louder and faster with every passing moment.

“ _Shou… Fuck…”_

Goddammit.

Akaashi clambered out of his bed, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would shut out any sounds infiltrating his ears, and quickly shoved on a sweater and sweatpants in lieu of his everyday wear. Every smack of skin and gasping breath made him cringe, and at the last minute he grabbed his headphones from his desk before scurrying off into the kitchen. The sounds were muted with the distance of the rest of the apartment, but Akaashi still turned the volume on his phone all the way up. Just in case.

He poked at his salad, his appetite no longer a priority as he focused his attention on the video he’d set up to play. Their tennis instructor had made several instructional videos on different stances and maneuvers that they could incorporate in their gameplay, and Akaashi was determined to learn and master them all so he had an array of attacks when it came to official game time. After he spent nearly ten minutes studying the videos and eating nearly half his salad, Akaashi braved venturing into his room again, still keeping his headphones blaring in his ears. Sleep was beginning to overtake him, and he was _so_ ready to get some sleep before he inevitably had to get up and start all over again in a few hours.

“ _Fuck, you’re so tight, Shou, my God—_ “

“Can you guys hurry up and fucking finish already? I’m tired!” Akaashi groaned loudly, kicking at the shared wall between his and Hinata’s room, and the sounds silenced almost immediately.

“Keiji? I didn’t know you were home,” Hinata’s voice was muffled but high pitched and breathy. “S-Sorry — Tadashi, stop — “Sorry, Keiji.”

“Yeah, sorry Keiji,” Tadashi’s voice called out too, followed by a hoarse giggle from Hinata.

“Yeah, you sound downright despondent,” Akaashi murmured, falling backwards onto his bed and quickly tugging the comforter over his head. The sounds had stopped for a moment, and Akaashi was nearing the edge of slumber before they started up again, albeit quieter this time.

“T-Tadashi, shh,” Hinata tried to hush, only to be silenced by a moan. “ _Fuck_ , ‘dashi… ‘M close… Nng!”

Akaashi buried his head in his pillow, bringing his extra one over his face to muffle his ears. Maybe if he pressed down hard enough he would suffocate. Eventually he fell asleep once they’d climaxed — gross, by the way, and something he didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget no matter how hard he tried — and had yet another fitful, dreamless night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bokuakabeam)


	3. Coffee Addiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “C’mon, don’t be that way! You never go out and do anything, and you deserve to let loose a little! Plus, a lot of the football players are cute! Maybe you’ll find one you like.” Hinata wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
> 
> Akaashi scoffed as they got in line to order. “Whatever. Those guys are a bunch of douchebags, there’s no way I’d let any of them get anywhere near me.”

“Keiji! It’s seven!” Akaashi was ripped from his slumber by a shrill voice sounding from somewhere else in the apartment. He smacked his lips and cracked his eyes open, wincing when the harsh sunlight streamed in from between the gaps in his blinds. “Keiji!”

“‘M up!” He shouted back, grumbling under his breath and slipping out of the comfort of his blanket. The shirt he’d slept in had ridden up past his ribs, and he could feel goosebumps start to rise as the cool air from the apartment hit his skin. He waddled stiffly out of his room and into the kitchen, shooting glares at the walls and furniture like they’d personally done something to offend him. Hinata was shirtless and bustling between the stove and the sink, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth. 

“Man, you sure aren’t a morning person,” Yamaguchi commented from his seat at the breakfast table, offering Keiji a warm smile and a coffee he’d set aside for the man. Since he’d started staying over at Akaashi and Hinata’s place more often when the two started dating, Yamaguchi tried his best to pitch in where he could. 

“I think I’d be more of a morning person if I didn’t have to listen to a live porn show at three in the morning,” Akaashi shot him a look from over the rim of his coffee mug, taking a sip and basking in the warmth as it slid down his throat. Last night was almost worth going through just from the dark blush that decorated Yamaguchi’s cheeks. 

“Shut up, Keiji,” Hinata mumbled around a mouthful of toothpaste, spitting the excess into the kitchen sink. Akaashi frowned.

“Shou, please don’t do that in the kitchen,” Akaashi sighed, already resigned to having to clean the toothpaste stains later that afternoon. 

“ _ Shorry, _ ” he redhead mumbled, barely audible around the toothbrush, jogging out to finish up in the bathroom. 

“And I’m sorry about… About last night,” Yamaguchi looked at Akaashi sheepishly, tracing a finger around the lip of his own mug of tea. 

“S’okay, just… Can you guys maybe have, like, sex hours?” Akaashi suggested with a shrug. 

“That makes me sound like a sex worker!” Hinata’s voice carried from the bathroom into the kitchen, and Yamaguchi snorted.

“If you’re a sex worker, you’re not a very good one,” he shouted back. “I get your ass for free on the daily!”

“ _ Hey! _ ”

Akaashi cleared his throat before continuing. “I mean, like, from eight to ten at night you are free to go at it. And I’ll make myself scarce.”

“Only two hours?” Hinata popped back into the kitchen after putting a shirt on, sans toothbrush, and looked at Akaashi incredulously. 

“What do you mean  _ only _ ? How much time do you fucking need?” Akaashi looked between the two, trying to piece together what kind of sex they were having that lasted longer than two hours. (Clearly not any sex he’d ever had, that’s for damn sure.) “Tadashi, unless you have some supersonic stamina that I don’t know about, I think two hours is—“

“ _ No _ ,” Hinata interrupted, slapping at Akaashi’s shoulder. “I mean, like, what if I wanna fuck outside of those hours?”

“Umm,” Akaashi hummed, tapping his chin. “Maybe just… Keep it in your pants?” And Hinata looked at him like he suggested chopping his dick off. 

“Ah, I gotta go,” Yamaguchi hopped out of his chair, downing the rest of his tea before pecking Hinata on the lips. “See you at lunch.”

That left Hinata and Akaashi to finish getting ready — Akaashi spent more time than necessary in the bathroom just to spite Hinata — until they both left for the day. Due to the chill that had settled in the air, Akaashi opted to wear a newer oversized sweater he’d bought on a whim, paired with high waisted jeans. It was more casual than he was used to, but seeing as he could feel his balls begin to shrivel up inside himself due to the colder weather, Akaashi could let it slide. He hefted his backpack onto his shoulders, the straps digging into his shoulders as he’d opted to carry all his textbooks that day. Despite the wind that sent a chill across the skin of Akaashi’s exposed neck as they stepped outside their apartment, Hinata was dressed in a simple tee and shorts that hugged his thighs. 

“Don’t you get cold?” Akaashi complained, secretly jealous about Hinata’s ability to retain heat so well. He unconsciously moved closer to the redhead, basking in the warmth that emanated from his body. 

“Nope,” Hinata smiled, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “Hey, Keiji, I really am sorry about last night. Er, this morning, I guess.”

“I’m just glad that you two are happy,” Akaashi smiled sincerely down at his friend, but couldn’t help noticing the grimace that flashed across his face. “What? You’re not happy?”

“I really like Tadashi…” Hinata started, but when he saw that Akaashi was waiting for him to continue he pressed his lips together tightly, hesitant. 

“You can talk to me, Shou,” Akaashi reassured, placing a hand lightly on the other’s shoulder — it was a reassuring gesture, in no way associated with Akaashi trying to heat up his frozen fingers. They’d made it onto the main campus now and Akaashi steered them the long way, giving Hinata more privacy away from the prying eyes of surrounding students. 

“Well… I dunno, I guess there’s no spark?” Hinata sighed, scratching his head. “Like he’s  _ so _ nice, and he makes me laugh, and the sex is  _ amazing _ —“

“Ew,” Akaashi scrunched up his nose and Hinata rolled his eyes. 

“Anyway. I just don’t feel it, y’know? The thing that should make me feel all  _ gwahh _ inside just isn’t there.”

“ _ Gwahh _ ?” Akaashi repeated dully, furrowing his brows as he tried to piece together what Hinata was getting at. “So you don’t love him?”

“I do love him! Just… Not in that way, I guess.” Hinata bit his lip and looked at his shoes as they walked, scuffing the heels on the pavement just for something else to do. 

“You need to talk to him. I’d wanna know if I was in a relationship and someone didn’t feel the same for me that I did them, you understand? It’s the right thing to do.” Akaashi’s heart hurt for Yamaguchi, thinking back on how the two had looked at each other the past few months. There was clearly love there, and he just hoped that Hinata wouldn’t hurt the boy too much. 

Hinata groaned loudly, causing some of the students walking around them to glance in their direction. “How would you know, Keiji, you haven’t been in a relationship in forever! Maybe times have changed!” Akaashi’s silence snapped Hinata out of his own thoughts, and he instantly paled when he realized what he’d said. “Oh, shit, Keiji. I didn’t mean it like that, I just… Fuck, I don’t think before I speak. I didn’t mean anything by that, I was just complaining—“

“No, no, I get it,” Akaashi interrupted softly, and he struggled to pull a smile. “I’ve had kind of a dry spell. A four year dry spell…”

“Well, you haven’t really been putting yourself out there,” Hinata pointed out, hefting his backpack on his shoulders as he spoke. They were nearing the coffee shop on campus where they stopped every morning — much to the chagrin of Hinata because  _ “really Akaashi, one cup of coffee at home should be plenty.” _

“Yeah, I know. I’ve just been so preoccupied with tennis and my classes, I just don’t really have time for something like that, you know?” Akaashi rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation has taken. 

“You have time to get a little  _ action _ ,” Hinata, thankfully, lowered his voice as they neared the building. “Oh! That messy-haired guy said there was a party this weekend. We should go!”

“Messy-haired guy?” Akaashi parroted, once again looking at Hinata in confusion. 

“Uhh, Kuroo? I think his name was Kuroo.”

“What?” Akaashi stopped mid-stride, almost bumping into somebody. “When did Kuroo talk to you?”

“He came by the lunch table yesterday after you and Kei left. He told me and Tadashi about a party that the football guys are throwing this Friday, and that if we had time we should swing by. What’s the big deal? We should go!” Hinata bounced in place, red hair flopping with each movement. 

“He gives me bad vibes,” Akaashi admitted, resuming their walk. 

“Did you really just say  _ vibes _ ?” Hinata teased, earning a glare from his friend. “C’mon, don’t be that way! You never go out and do anything, and you deserve to let loose a little! Plus, a lot of the football players are cute! Maybe you’ll find one you like.” Hinata wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Akaashi scoffed as they got in line to order. “Whatever. Those guys are a bunch of douchebags, there’s no way I’d let any of them get anywhere near me.”

“‘Kaashi! Hey, hey, ‘Kaashi!” God must hate Akaashi, because as soon as those words left his lips, he heard an ever-familiar voice calling out to him from the back of the line. 

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled under his breath, before he let out a grunt as an arm was swung around his shoulders. Bokuto’s grin overtook his vision, and Akaashi had to school his expression into one of apathy.

“Nope, just me,” Bokuto’s grin grew impossibly wider, obviously proud of his little joke. His face was dangerously close to Akaashi’s, and he had a dangerous thought about pressing his lips to Bokuto’s. Dangerous, but fleeting. “Fancy seeing you here, ‘Kaash!”

“Mhm, are you following me or something?” Akaashi asked skeptically, straightening his shoulders harshly enough to fling Bokuto’s arm off of him. 

“Keiji,” Hinata glared at his friend before turning his attention to Bokuto, a smile replacing the frown. “We come here all the time! Keiji can’t get enough coffee. I think he’d snort the coffee grounds if I’d let him.”

Akaashi sighed and rubbed his face, trying to hide the light blush he could feel creeping up his neck. Hinata talked about him  _ way _ too much. Bokuto seemed to find it amusing, however, and he vibrated in his spot next to Akaashi. 

“Oho, is that true, ‘Kaash? Maybe we should stage an intervention if the problem is this serious,” Bokuto looked between Hinata and Akaashi, straining to plaster on a serious face. He placed his hand on Akaashi’s shoulder as if offering him reassurance, and Akaashi ignored the tingling feeling in the pit of his stomach instead to glare at the taller man. “‘Kaashi, we care about you, and that’s why we’ve decided to burn all of your coffee-related paraphernalia.” 

“He has an espresso-scented candle, should we burn that too?” Hinata added, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Well, wouldn’t that be counterintuitive?” Akaashi drawled with an exasperated sigh as they reached the counter. “Can I get a caramel macchiato with two extra shots?”

“He’d get high off his own supply,” Bokuto added, nodding his head solemnly. 

Hinata bounced up next to Akaashi, chuckling at Bokuto’s antics. “Can I please get a peppermint mocha with extra whipped cream?”

“Hey, shorty here calls you Keiji! Can I call you Keiji too?” Bokuto interjected, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Hinata interjected a “ _ hey! _ ” at the shorty comment, and Akaashi quickly shook his head with a glare. “No, you can’t. Hinata’s been my friend for nearly four years now, and you’re apparently a growth that I can’t get rid of.”

“Ah, ‘Kaashi, you wound me!” Bokuto cried out, clutching his heart dramatically before clearing his throat and turning towards the barista. “Can I get an iced caramel macchiato, and put theirs on my tab as well?” He swiped his student ID into the card reader before Akaashi could protest. 

“Wait, you don’t have to do that,” Akaashi argued, arms limp at his sides as the damage was already done. Bokuto just waved him off and directed them towards the area to wait for their beverages. 

“It’s no biggie, ‘Kaashi! Besides, since I’m an unwanted fungus in your life, I should at least make myself useful,” Bokuto grinned, and Akaashi had to look away in fear of smiling back. He couldn’t let Bokuto win — win at what, he wasn’t too sure. He just knew he couldn’t give in to the charms of Bokuto Koutarou. 

“Whatever,” Akaashi grumbled, and he felt a sharp pain in his side where Hinata jutted his elbow. 

“Thank you, Bokuto!” Hinata smiled brightly, nearly matching Bokuto’s grin, and Akaashi couldn’t help but compare the two of them. 

“Anytime, shorty,” Bokuto responded, keeping his gaze on Akaashi’s profile. 

“Why’d you get an iced coffee? It’s cold as balls out there,” Akaashi spoke up then, glancing towards Bokuto. It was only then that he noticed Bokuto was dressed similarly to Hinata with a simple tee, except he had sweatpants on instead of shorts. 

“Nah, it’s not too bad out there. Plus, I move around a lot so I keep myself warmed up,” Bokuto shook his head, proving his point as he bounced in place. “Y’know, ‘Kaashi, if you ate more you’d probably be able to keep yourself warmer.”

“What makes you think you have any idea what my eating habits are like?” Akaashi challenged, crossing his arms and shooting another glare towards the man. Bokuto just beamed and shrugged, seemingly happy to get any sort of reaction out of Akaashi. 

“I dunno, I just assumed. Honestly, I just wanted to try and get a rise outta you. It worked.” He grinned cheekily, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his lips. Just at that moment, Akaashi felt his phone vibrate in the back of his pants. Excusing himself from the other two, he stepped away to answer. 

**From: Tsukishima Kei (9:38am)**

**> > ** hey i just had a pretty… interesting conversation with tadashi this morning

**From: Me (9:38am)**

**> >** ok, don’t leave me in suspense here, what’s the deal?

**> >** also, did he go home after leaving our place? he left in a hurry this morning. i hope i didn’t make him uncomfortable

**From: Tsukishima Kei (9:39am)**

**> >** pfft how would you have made him uncomfortable

**From: Me (9:39am)**

**> >** idk i just brought up the fact that i could hear shou panting for an hour in the next room over and he suddenly got all red and rushed off

**From: Tsukishima Kei (9:41am)**

**> >** i wish i didn’t know that

**> > ** anyway, he talked to me about him and shouyou, apparently he’s not… fulfilled

**> >** how anyone can be unfulfilled with that energetic little shit on their dick is beyond me but whatever

**From: Me** **(9:42am)**

**> >** you’re a little biased

**> >** ah, well i had a similar talk with shou this morning. he said he doesn’t feel ‘gwahh’ when tadashi is around

Before Akaashi could wait for Tsukishima’s response, a drink was shoved into his face. 

“You might want to drink this before it gets cold, ‘Kaashi. I wouldn’t want it to trigger your hibernation senses.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes but took the drink from Bokuto’s hands, reveling in the warmth emanating from the styrofoam. “What, like I’m Spiderman but my superpower is sensing cold weather? I’d suck in dangerous situations.”

“Akaashi Keiji, superhero! Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, can warn squirrels when to start fattening up, and can sense when a toilet seat will be cold as shit to sit on!” Bokuto announced, and Akaashi couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. “Hey, you should do that more often.”

Akaashi furrowed his brows and tilted his head, confused. “Do what?”

“Laugh. You look really good when you do,” Bokuto admitted, a soft smile replacing his cheesy one. “Anyway, I came up to talk to you for a reason, actually. There’s a party this Friday at one of the guys’ houses off campus. Standard college shit, y’know — drinking, dancing, most likely someone throwing up on someone’s lap — it’s supposed to be a lot of fun.”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” Akaashi drawled, almost teasingly, wanting to get Bokuto to spell it out for him. 

“I’m telling you so you can come. You should come. I’d like to see you there,” Bokuto admitted, rubbing the back of his neck chastely before the smirk returned. “You don’t have to wear a lampshade on your head. That’s in no way a requirement.”

“I told you, Keiji! We should go!” Hinata exclaimed, nearly jolting Akaashi out of his skin. He’d forgotten Hinata was next to him. 

“Oi, shorty, who told you about it?” Bokuto asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh! Kuroo invited me and my boyfriend.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Bokuto made an expression that Akaashi couldn’t quite place and he typed something very quickly out on his phone. “Well, listen, I gotta bounce. I’ve got Economics. Shorty, I hope to see you on Friday. ‘Kaashi, think about it, alright? I’d really like it if you were there.”

“See you there, Bokuto!” Hinata nodded profusely, excitement practically seeping out of his pores. “And I’ll try and convince Keiji to come too!”

“I’d appreciate that!” Bokuto grinned, his eyes never leaving Akaashi’s. “Oh, and another thing…” He pulled something out of his bag and handed it to Akaashi. “Eat somethin’, would ya?”

Akaashi looked at the small to-go bag he’d been given, opening it up to find a blueberry muffin fresh from the bakery in the cafeteria. “Bokuto, you don’t need—“

“I’m earning my keep, ‘Kaashi! Don’t worry about it!” Bokuto shouted over his shoulder, already bounding out of the coffee shop, iced macchiato in hand. 

When Akaashi turned he was once again surprised by Hinata’s presence, but instantly scowled at the redhead’s expression. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, Mr. I-Won’t-Let-Any-Football-Player-Near-Me. You were practically drooling over Bokuto!” Hinata hollered, unfaltering as he followed a grumbling Akaashi outside once again. “Don’t deny it, Keiji! I saw how you looked at him! And you guys kept joking about the coffee thing—“

“ _ Hinata _ ,” Akaashi quickly spun on his heel, glowering at his friend. “You  _ do _ know about Bokuto’s reputation on campus, right?” When Hinata didn’t respond, cowering under Akaashi’s frightening presence, he continued. “He does this. He tries to get close to somebody just so he can fuck them, and then he dips. He’s not interested in me, he’s not interested in my friends. He just wants to get his dick wet. And I, for one, am not interested in just becoming one of the many, alright?”

Hinata’s voice was small but confident. “Maybe he’s changed, Keiji. You can’t just assume things about somebody, you know?”

“Shou, please,” Akaashi said, suddenly worn down from the eventful morning. “I just… Even if he has changed. I don’t want to put myself in a position to potentially get hurt.” He tugged at the hem of his sweater anxiously, just wanting something to do with his hands. 

“All relationships are like that, though,” Hinata reminded him. Akaashi suddenly hated how smart his best friend was, despite always coming across as air-headed. “Are you just never going to give anybody a chance?”

“I don’t know, Shou,” Akaashi sighed. “Can we just talk about this later? I really have to get to Psych.”

“Sure, Keiji. See you guys at lunch, right? Same as always?” Hinata inquired, biting his lip, unsure. 

“Of course. See you three then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bokuakabeam)


	4. Possibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You were totally flirting, and I don’t see why you’re so determined to make us believe you weren’t! I was there, you know, I have eyes.”
> 
> “I have eyes too,” Akaashi sneered, finally meeting his three friends’ prying eyes. “And unless you guys want me to air your dirty laundry to the group, you’ll leave me alone about this.” He ripped open the prepackaged plastic fork and began prodding at this salad when a heavy silence fell over the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY I CHANGED THE RATING AND ADDED SOME TAGS, SO PLEASE BE WARY OF THAT! It all changes in this chapter :P
> 
> Also a special thanks to the loves of my life, Maki and Kai, for helping me because you already know I panicked writing this chapter

Akaashi’s temple was throbbing and his back was aching by the time lunch rolled around. Tuesdays and Thursdays were his busy days, with back to back classes taking up a majority of his morning and afternoons. While the schedule at first had seemed too condensed for Akaashi’s taste, it left him three weekdays and the weekend for studying and tennis. However, on those days, Akaashi couldn’t be bothered to do much more than attend his classes before going home and passing out for the evening.

“Keiji! Over here!” As soon as Akaashi had stepped into the cafeteria, he heard Hinata shouting out to him from somewhere amongst the crowd of students in the seating area. Despite scarfing down Bokuto’s muffin during his Clinical Psychology class, Akaashi’s stomach growled, so he set forth in collecting some lunch before finding his friends.

  
“Hey, how was your morning?” Tsukishima asked as soon as Akaashi slid into the seat next to him, eyeing the salad the raven-haired man had bought.

“Ah, busy. Nothing too exciting,” Akaashi shrugged, shrugging his backpack from his shoulders and relieving some of the tension from his upper back.

“Oh, yeah? Because Shou here was telling us that you were flirting with Bokuto Koutarou this morning in the coffee shop,” Tsukishima glanced at Akaashi from the corner of his eyes, taking a bite from his sandwich.

Akaashi glared at the redhead who just shrugged, and scowled down at the table, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. “I wasn’t flirting with him. He was talking to himself and I just happened to be next to him while he was.”

“Nuh uh, Keiji!” Akaashi frowned at Hinata’s outburst. “You were _totally_ flirting, and I don’t see why you’re so determined to make us believe you weren’t! I was there, you know, I have _eyes_.”

“I have eyes too,” Akaashi sneered, finally meeting his three friends’ prying eyes. “And unless you guys want me to air your dirty laundry to the group, you’ll leave me alone about this.” He ripped open the prepackaged plastic fork and began prodding at this salad when a heavy silence fell over the table.

“Hey, what shit do you have on me that Tsukki and Shou don’t already know?” Yamaguchi spoke up then, voice small like he was worried about incurring Akaashi’s wrath.

“Party, freshman year,” Akaashi said simply. Yamaguchi’s face reddened, and Hinata and Tsukishima perked up.

“Alright guys, I think we should leave Keiji alone about this whole Bokuto thing, he clearly doesn’t wanna talk about it,” Yamaguchi mumbled quickly, clearing his throat and darting his eyes around the room.

“Wait, what the fuck! Elaborate!” Hinata cried out, nearly crawling across the table to shake Akaashi.

“Oh my God, Tadashi, what did you do?” Tsukishima chuckled, looking between Yamaguchi and Akaashi.

“N-Nothing! It’s nothing, everything’s fine! I’ve never been drunk before, what are you talking about? Let’s talk about something else,” Yamaguchi stammered, shaking his head profusely.

“Tadashi! Keiji! Someone tell me or I’ll—“ Hinata hissed, trying to sound intimidating but struggling to come up with a tangible threat.

“Hinata,” Akaashi uttered, interrupting. “Sophomore year, _the accident_.”

Hinata snapped his mouth shut, an audible clacking of his teeth heard amongst the four of them. “Y-Yeah, guys, y’know what? I think I might’ve been on an acid trip or something. Akaashi would never flirt with Bokuto, I was just joking. Ha ha ha.”

Tsukishima’s eyes widened but he said nothing as the two arguably loudest people he’d ever met were silenced with just a few words. Lunch continued like that, with darting eyes and whispered words in aborted attempts at conversations, until Yamaguchi and Hinata quietly excused themselves to attend classes.

“What’s mine?” Tsukishima hummed once they were alone, tapping a finger to his chin, curious.

“Hmm,” Akaashi thought for a moment. “Junior year, new year’s eve.”

“Ah, enough said.” Tsukishima blushed lightly, and Akaashi’s lip quirked into a smirk.

“Kei?” Akaashi finally set his fork down, ignoring the pain in his stomach when he realized he hadn’t even taken a bite.

  
“Yes?”

“I think I was flirting with Bokuto.”

“Oh, you don’t say?” Tsukishima teased, turning his body to face Akaashi and resting his chin on his hand. “What makes you think you were flirting?”

“Because the whole time we were talking I wanted him to bend me over the counter,” Akaashi mumbled quietly, his face burning.

Tsukishima snorted. “Wow.”

Akaashi buried his face in his hands with a groan. “Ugh, what’s wrong with me? For four years I’ve just been focused on the important shit. And now, all of a sudden, one hot guy glances at me and I drop to my knees. Seriously, Kei, what the _fuck_ is wrong with me?”

“Keiji,” Tsukishima leaned forward, resting a hand on Akaashi’s forearm to gain his attention. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You focused on everything but yourself for four years. You’re getting a psychology degree to please your family, you’re continuing with tennis because you feel like if you quit you’d let all of us down — which you wouldn’t by the way, but I know how you are about quitting things. I know you really love tennis and I know you enjoy your classes, but none of your decisions were solely based on what _you_ wanted, you know?”

Akaashi nodded, prompting Tsukishima to continue.

“But you’re allowed to have fun too. Isn’t that what college is for? You’re supposed to get drunk and do something stupid. You’re supposed to party and have a one-night-stand, to sleep in and miss your classes for once.”

“I missed my morning classes that one time last year, remember?” Akaashi attempted, shying away from the glare Tsukishima sent him.

“Keiji, you were, like, practically dying. You’d been sick for days and we finally convinced you to miss _one_ class. You need to let loose a little, y’know? Go wild.” Tsukishima did the motion for jazz hands, and Akaashi snorted.

“I agree.” If the world could go ahead and open up to swallow Akaashi whole, that’d be delightful. He furrowed his brows and hunched his shoulders, not even needing to turn around to know who’d spoken up just then.

“Do you have someone tailing me, or did you just put a tracker on my phone?” He sighed, hating the feeling of warmth that the figure behind him always seemed to inflict on his normally-cold body.

“Aw, ‘Kaash, I was just agreeing with your friend here,” Bokuto pouted, sliding into the now-vacant seat on the other side of Akaashi.

“D’you even have any context, or were you just jumping on the opportunity to disagree with me?” Akaashi frowned, tilting his head into his head to look crookedly at Bokuto.

“I just heard that you need to go wild, and I wholeheartedly agree. Streak across campus, go blond. Just go nuts!” Bokuto grinned, and Akaashi instantly felt self-conscious with the way the man’s eyes roved his body. “I think you’d be a hot blond.”

“I’d look hot no matter what I did to my hair,” Akaashi grumbled, abruptly standing up and gathering his things as Bokuto let out a hearty laugh.

“I don’t doubt that, gorgeous,” Bokuto crooned, and Akaashi pushed down the giddy feeling rising up in his chest and plastered on a scowl.

“C’mon, Tsukishima. Let’s go,” Akaashi raised an eyebrow at his friend who was leaning back in his chair, appraising the scene before him.

“Oh, you’re talking to me? I thought you forgot I was even here,” Tsukishima teased, slowly gathering his trash and holding his bag in his remaining hand. “You sure you don’t want to stay here with… I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name?”

“Bokuto Koutarou, at your service,” he beamed, flicking his hand in a circle and bowing his head. “You’re Tsukishima, right? I think we had a class together a year or so ago.” His gaze snapped back to Akaashi as quickly as it had left, meeting Tsukishima’s line of sight long enough to be deemed polite in a conversation.

“Ah, yeah, I think you’re right,” Tsukishima hummed, fidgeting on his feet. “Well, Bokuto, nice to see you again. Thanks for hitting on my friend here twice in one day, I think that’s a record for him. Unfortunately, I must depart. But I’m sure I’ll see you again very soon.” And much to Bokuto’s amusement and Akaashi’s mortification, Tsukishima winked before stiffly walking away from them.

“Oh, my God, I’m going to kill him,” Akaashi said more to himself than for anyone to hear, but Bokuto chuckled.

“So, ‘Kaash, you don’t get flirted with much? That’s kind of a shock, I mean, you’re hot!” Bokuto gestured towards Akaashi, incredulous.

“Bite me,” Akaashi snapped, quickly turning on his heel to try and get as far away from this conversation as possible. Bokuto, obviously, didn’t take the hint.

“Oho, didn’t know you were into that. Should we have a safe word?” He leered, jogging to maintain a pace with Akaashi, shoving his hands into his pockets. The afternoon wind whipped his hair from its styled upright place, giving Bokuto a more boyish appearance (which of course was all ruined by the lewd things he insisted on spewing).

Akaashi scoffed. “As if you’d get anywhere close enough for me to use a safe word. Even so, I wouldn’t need one, but maybe you would. I don’t think you could handle me.” Akaashi glowered at Bokuto for another moment as he let his words sink in. When it seemed like he wouldn’t respond, Akaashi huffed out an exhale and began walking away, determined not to be late to class.

“So you’re saying there’s a chance?” Bokuto shouted after him. Akaashi glanced over his shoulder to see Bokuto frozen to the spot they’d stopped, a lopsided grin the defining feature on his face.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, not even dignifying Bokuto’s tenacious outburst with an audible response. He could hear him yelling out to another friend of his and scrambling off to meet them, and Akaashi let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

Lucky for him, Wednesday was dedicated solely to tennis, so Akaashi didn’t have any open opportunities for Bokuto to ‘accidentally’ bump into him. Akaashi threw himself into practice, ignoring the concerned looks from Hinata, Yamaguchi, and Tsukishima, and instead focused on getting stronger, getting better. Sweat clung to his skin and slid down his face and neck, and the sun was dangerously close to setting when Akaashi finally decided to wrap up for the day. He’d sent his friends home — under threat of death, but if asked directly he’d deny that fact tooth and nail — so Akaashi collected his things from the side of the court and set off towards the locker room.

Showers had always had something of a calming effect on Akaashi. The stresses that came with trying to appease his parents and please his friends, the overwhelming responsibilities that came with being captain of the tennis team and a straight-A student; all of it just seemed to melt away in the heat and steam of a nice shower. He reveled in that daily half an hour where he could just let his mind wander, not worry and fret about things he realistically had no control over, and just _be_. However, it was the shower that Wednesday night, in the cold, concrete locker rooms, where Akaashi was alone except for the few moths that gathered by the dim lights on the ceiling. It was that specific shower in which Akaashi let his mind wander — as usual, except for the fact that his mind didn’t just go blank.

The warmth of the water hit his back, and Akaashi thought of golden eyes. His hair flattened against his scalp, and he thought of brazen smiles and shameless words. Soap ran down his skin in transparent, bubbly trails, and he thought of thick fingers and large hands. Something sparked in his lower abdomen, and he pictured those large hands replacing his own as they trailed lower, across his chest and down his stomach. His own hands were steadily reaching the heat between his legs, but Akaashi could think of nothing aside from the heady desire to have calloused hands take their place. To have skilled fingers trace circles around his nipples, teasing at first before shifting to rougher twists and pinches.

Finally, _finally_ , his fingers wrapped around his aching dick, and he could already feel his toes curl against the tile in anticipation. He slowly began pumping his hand, the slick sound of skin dragging against skin almost seemed too loud in the quiet of the locker room. But Akaashi didn’t care, _couldn’t_ care, when the weight of his dick in his hand and the pressure steadily building up in his lower abdomen felt _so good._ He suppressed his moans, biting on the back of his free hand, as his thoughts wildly wandered back to those eyes, that smile, his laugh.

“Koutarou...” he whimpered against the skin of his hand, as if it was a secret to be kept, and he sped up his movements.

His arm was already aching, sore from practicing so aggressively that day, but he pushed through it. His forehead thumped against the cold tile of the shower, the water now more lukewarm, and he could feel the urge in his body slowly build up, threatening to snap at any moment. Akaashi ran his thumb over the head, shivering at the feeling of more pre-cum leaking out. Another thought, however fleeting but still there, was what sent him tumbling over the edge.

His movements got sloppier, his breath was coming out in short, fast pants, and Akaashi could almost hear that voice, _his_ voice, whispering to him in the recesses of his mind. _‘Cum for me, ‘Kaashi.’_

Pain shot up his arm as Akaashi bit down on the palm of his hand to stifle his moans, but it was overwhelmed by the intense pleasure that set in as he came. Ropes of cum shot out onto the tile floor, and he slowed his hand until he was finished, chest heaving and cheeks flushed.

After a few brief moments spent in the afterglow, reality began to set in, and Akaashi felt the blood drain from his face. “Oh,” he inhaled sharply, his body quivering, not only from the intensity of his orgasm, but from the realization that he’d got himself off to Bokuto Koutarou, of all people. “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bokuakabeam)


	5. Overworked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m so excited! I don’t think I’ve ever been to one of the football parties before.”
> 
> “What’s the difference between a football party and any other party?” Akaashi rolled his eyes, bouncing his leg under the table. “Besides a higher risk of STD’s?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I meant to include the party in this chapter, but it got too long! So the party will be starting next chapter, keep an eye out for that!
> 
> Also, I was thinking of having the party be in three different perspectives: One in Akaashi's, one in Hinata's, and one in Yamaguchi's. Let me know what you think of that in the comments, if you can <3 :)

The previous night’s _events_ hadn’t left Akaashi’s mind, and even led to another _event_ once he’d reached the sanctity of his bedroom. He was ashamed to admit it, the fact that he’d gotten off twice now just to the idea of Bokuto, so he was refusing to let himself acknowledge that it happened.

That Thursday morning went like any other, with Yamaguchi making him some tea and Hinata making them both some breakfast. However, Akaashi couldn’t help but notice that something seemed off between his two friends. It wasn’t anything that people would have noticed fleetingly, but Akaashi had always been good at reading people — not quite as good as Tsukishima, who could often take one glance at people and somehow know their entire life story just by how they quirked their eyebrow or some weird shit like that — but he could hold his own, especially when it came to people he was close to. With Hinata and Yamaguchi it was the little things; their chairs weren’t right next to each other like they normally were, they never looked directly at one another (and if they did, their eyes would quickly dart away), and overall the conversation at the table lulled into an uncomfortable silence.

It was only once Yamaguchi had left — after yet another awkward interaction wherein he leaned over to hug Hinata goodbye while Hinata went in for a kiss, all of which resulted in a hesitant high five — that Akaashi decided to speak up. “Are you two fighting or something?”

Hinata’s eyes widened minimally but Akaashi opted to not point that out. “N-No, not really. It’s just… I really don’t wanna talk about it right now, if that’s alright with you?” Akaashi had never seen Hinata look so out-of-place, especially in their own home.

“Of course, Shou. I’m here whenever you are ready to talk though, okay? But you should probably talk to Tadashi soon about how you’re feeling, y’know? About the stuff you talked to me about the other day—“

“Keiji,” Hinata interrupted, a frown overtaking his features as he looked at Akaashi’s plate. “You hardly touched your food, did you not like it? I know I’ve never made that type of omelette before, but I thought it was kinda tasty!”

“No, that’s not it,” Akaashi quickly shook his head, shoveling a couple bites into his mouth and chewing dramatically to prove his point. “I think it’s delicious! You’ve always been really good at figuring out recipes on the first try. I just haven’t really had an appetite lately.”

“Lately? It’s been a few weeks,” Hinata hummed thoughtfully, sweeping past Akaashi to start on the few dishes left in the sink. “What’s got you so stressed?”

Akaashi sighed and shrugged before remembering that Hinata’s back was to him. “I dunno, just a buncha stuff I guess.” He kept poking and prodding at the food still remaining on his plate, thoughts filtering through his mind. Truthfully, the omelette was very good, but he just couldn’t bring himself to take any more bites of it. His stomach was already turning from the couple he’d inhaled to appease Hinata.

“Well, let’s see…” Hinata thought aloud, viciously scrubbing a plate that had food caked onto it from last night. “You always stress out about things _way_ in advance, so do you have anything in the next year or so that has you shitting bricks?”

Akaashi could hear the teasing lilt in the redhead’s voice and decidedly hip-checked him on the way to the fridge. “Shut up. I just have to make sure I get good grades on my final exams, and we have those matches coming up—“

“Not for over a month, Keiji! You’re stressing over matches that we’re definitely gonna win!” Akaashi didn’t have to look to see the fire in Hinata’s eyes, his fighting spirit always bursting when they talk about playing. Hinata had finished the dishes and now leaned back against the counter, watching with a wary look as Akaashi grabbed an energy drink from the fridge. “Oh yeah, good decision. Overdose on caffeine and vitamin B12 ‘cuz that’ll really set you apart from our competition.”

He opened the Monster with a flourish and took a long chug just to spite Hinata before continuing. “You don’t know that we’re going to win, Shou. You never know what’s gonna happen, that’s why I’m nervous. What if they’ve increased their practice since our last match? And these are the deciding matches on whether we compete in spring finals, y’know? This is our last year, I don’t want to let you all down by not bringing our team to finals.”

Hinata was already shaking his head, furrowed brows and downturned lips ready to interrupt Akaashi. “You wouldn’t—“

Akaashi held up a hand. “You guys can say I wouldn’t disappoint you, but I know deep down it would _suck_ for all of our work to amount to nothing. We have to make it to finals, and I’m going to get us there. Not to mention, I have to maintain my GPA in order to graduate with honors, and that’s what’s gonna get me into the best graduate schools. If I don’t get into the graduate school that my parents approve of, they won’t help me make my payments, and I won’t have time to get a full-time job alongside a full workload of classes—“

“Keiji,” Hinata spoke softly, wrapping his arms around Akaashi’s waist and bringing him into an encompassing, tight hug. He hadn’t even noticed Hinata moving closer through his rambling, and it wasn’t until now that Akaashi realized his breath was coming in short pants and his cheeks were wet. “Keiji, it’s alright. Just take some deep breaths. It’ll be alright, you’re gonna be alright.” Hinata’s smaller hands were rubbing gentle but firm circles on Akaashi’s back, and he continued speaking affirmations in a low tone.

Akaashi wouldn’t say that he was prone to anxiety or panic attacks, but there had been the occasional moment of weakness when things all seemed to culminate against him. Usually he could push himself through the stress — the stress that he put on himself, more often than not — because he hated showing any kind of weakness. Whenever he did let himself fell apart, however few and far between those instances were, when he was living with his parents it was always seen as a vulnerability. A blemish on his normally-perfect, stoic persona, and his parents would not fail to showcase the disappointment they held in their only son in not keeping himself together. And so Akaashi had spent a good majority of his high school years pushing down his emotions and sealing up the cracks in his demeanor, and anything that slipped through he’d suffer in silence.

The first time he’d opened up in front of someone else besides his parents had been a complete accident. But the first year of university is always rough for everybody, and Akaashi had greatly miscalculated how much responsibility would be placed on his shoulders. Luckily, he’d been in his dorm when his chest started heaving and tears began to fall down his cheeks, but Akaashi had been embarrassed to show that side of himself to his roommate. Chance was once again on his side when that roommate happened to be Hinata Shouyou, and he sat with Akaashi for the rest of the night, just talking through anything and everything until the raven-haired man calmed himself down. Over the years, Hinata slowly learned how to handle Akaashi at his worst, figuring out the subtle signs and signals for when Akaashi needed reassurance or space; and not only Hinata, but Yamaguchi and Tsukishima quickly caught on whenever Akaashi wasn’t entirely himself, and respected his needs as best as they could.

But it was moments like these, where Akaashi himself hadn’t even realized how bad he was getting, when Hinata would always flounder a bit to pick up the pieces of his best friend. These particular moments were rare, with Akaashi typically showing tell-tale signs of overworking himself, so when they did happen they were few and far between and Hinata never had preparation time beforehand. A lot could be said about Hinata, especially with his flamboyant and outspoken personality, but time and time again he proved that he was the best friend a person could ask for. So even though he didn’t have a predetermined plan set in place for this particular moment, Hinata made sure he was a steady presence, one that Akaashi could lean on — both emotionally and physically, seeing as Hinata was propping Akaashi up — and began a running checklist in his mind.

“M’sorry, Shou,” Akaashi’s mumbled, gripping onto Hinata’s shirt as the tears continued to fall. “M’sorry.”

Hinata shushed him, calmly rubbing his back and patting his hair simultaneously. His short nails grazed Akaashi’s scalp, lightly running his fingers through the disheveled hair, and waiting for the drooping of shoulders and relaxed sigh before he pulled back. “You okay for now? Just keep focusing on your breathing, you’re alright. I’m right here. Maybe we should stay home from classes today—“ Hinata stopped himself as Akaashi’s eyes widened in fear, and he quickly shook his head and changed his course of action. “N-No, okay, we’ll go to classes. But I’ll walk you everywhere, is that okay?”

Akaashi nodded timidly and released his grip on Hinata’s shirt. The rest of the morning was spent quietly, with Akaashi relenting under Hinata’s gaze and eating a bit more of his breakfast before they retired to their bedrooms to get ready for the rest of the day. Akaashi dressed in another oversized sweater and opted for black leggings, preferring to be comfortable after the morning he’d had. He could feel Hinata’s eyes on him as they left their apartment and made their way to campus, keeping his own trained ahead of him so he wouldn’t see the worry or pity that was definitely in that amber gaze.

“’Kaashi! I was worried you weren’t gonna make it this morning!” Akaashi grimaced as they neared the coffeeshop, already seeing a familiar head of spiked hair waiting outside the doors.

Bokuto was wearing a light jacket today, which he paired with a tight shirt and pants that seemed to hug him in all the right places. His hair was spiked like how it was normally, but for some reason in the pale sunlight of the early morning, it somehow looked a lot softer than it had before. Akaashi squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head once, trying to clear those thoughts before any worse ones came along.

“Bokuto!” Hinata waved, a wide grin on his face as he bounded over towards the man, leaving Akaashi to catch up.

“Sorry, but I overheard your orders the other day, so I went ahead and got you guys your coffees. That okay?” Bokuto asked, gesturing to the tray of coffees he held in his hands. He nibbled on his bottom lip and Akaashi couldn’t help darting his eyes to watch as his lip slowly slid back into place.

“That’s awesome, thanks Bokuto!” Hinata answered for them both, bouncing in place and grin never wavering.

Bokuto tilted his head towards one of the to-go cups. “That one’s yours, Shrimpy. And that one,” he gestured again to the other side, “…is yours, ‘Kaashi.”

Akaashi slowly took the coffee from the tray and took a sip, humming happily as the warm liquid slowly made its way down his throat. Extra shots and everything, just like he’d had it on Tuesday. They had a little extra time before their classes started, so Hinata led them towards a small table in front of the building before unceremoniously plopping himself down.

“Man,” he groaned, dropping his backpack to the ground and rubbing at his shoulders. “You worked us hard yesterday, Keiji. I’m still sore.”

Akaashi shrugged as his response, taking another long sip from his coffee and reveling in the warmth that spread through his body because of it.

“So Shrimpy, you’re coming to the party tomorrow, right?” Bokuto spoke up then, completely changing the subject and ignoring the glare Akaashi sent his way.

“Ugh, if you’re gonna call me Shrimpy, can you just call me Shouyou instead? And yes! I’m going!” Hinata groaned at Bokuto’s constant use of the nickname, but his frown was quickly replaced at the mention of the party. “I’m so excited! I don’t think I’ve ever been to one of the football parties before.”

“What’s the difference between a football party and any other party?” Akaashi rolled his eyes, bouncing his leg under the table. “Besides a higher risk of STD’s?”

Bokuto placed his free hand over his heart, his other clutching his own coffee, and scoffed. “Man, you have the lowest opinion of me and my friends than anybody I’ve ever met, ‘Kaashi! Who hurt you?! I’ll have you know that our parties are the gnarliest parties on campus!”

“Did you just say gnarly in a completely serious way?” Akaashi gaped, huffing out a laugh. “You really just said gnarly?”

“What? Our parties are _totally tubular_!” Bokuto lilted his voice into that of a stereotypical surfer, and Hinata and Akaashi laughed at his attempt. “C’mon, that was a good impression. I should be a voice actor or somethin’.” He wet his lips, and Akaashi wistfully thought about how those lips might feel against his skin. “Anyway, the reason I asked! Did anybody tell you that this party has a theme?”

“Huh?” Hinata tilted his head before shaking it. “No, nobody said anything like that. Kuroo just told me it was Friday, and to show up at eight.”

“Ah, Kuroo’s a dumbass,” Bokuto waved his hand in the air, as if waving off any implication that Kuroo was smarter than he seemed. “It’s like he’s got too much bullshit in his head to remember the important shit. Anyway! The theme is 2010’s.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Akaashi blurted out, furrowing his brows.

“Um, exactly how it sounds,” Bokuto tilted his head, a smug twinkle in his eyes that Akaashi wanted to snuff out. “It’s basically playing music from the 2010’s, and we’re all gonna dress how we did ten years ago. That’s pretty much it.”

“So basically that entails listening to trap music and talking about MySpace?” Akaashi snickered, covering his mouth with his hand. “Who came up with that idea?”

“One of my guys!” Bokuto puffed out his chest proudly, and if Akaashi had been looking, he would have seen the look of adoration sent his way as Bokuto watched him laugh. “So, ‘Kaashi, you seem pretty interested in a party that you aren’t attending. Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind?”

Akaashi scoffed, downing the rest of his coffee. “What makes you think that? I was just curious as to how you go about celebrating a _year_.”

“C’mon, Keiji. You might have fun,” Hinata suggested with a quick shrug of his shoulders. “I think it might do you some good, y’know? A good stress reliever, have some fun.”

“Y’know that’s two of your friends who’ve told you to let yourself loose a little, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto admonished, and he chuckled as Akaashi slouched on the bench with a pout. “C’mon! I really think you’ll have fun! And if you don’t, you can kick me in the balls.”

“Oho, really?” Akaashi sat up at that, and Bokuto groaned.

“Ugh, I _guess_! If you really feel like it’s necessary, fine. But you _won’t_ because you’ll be having too much fun at our party!” Bokuto declared haughtily, taking Akaashi’s trash and depositing it into the nearby trashcan before continuing. “So you’re coming then?”

And if it wasn’t for the hopeful look in Bokuto’s eyes, Akaashi would have vehemently said no. But, for some reason, he found himself saying, “Yes.”

Bokuto and Hinata whooped and cheered, dancing around the table as Akaashi tried to bury his head into his arms in embarrassment. Once they’d calmed down, and once Akaashi felt the blush seep from his skin, they made their separate ways to class. Hinata made sure Akaashi made it to the correct building before darting off across campus, leaving Bokuto behind to say goodbye.

“You’re really coming tomorrow, ‘Kaashi?” Bokuto asked again, this time his voice softer, smaller.

“Yes, I suppose I will. I don’t know how long I’ll stay, I have a lot of work I need to focus on,” Akaashi nibbled at his bottom lip, watching as Bokuto’s eyes slid down his face just as his had done that morning. “But, yes, Bokuto. I’ll be there.”

Bokuto smiled warmly, and Akaashi felt the same feeling he’d had when he was drinking his hot coffee spread throughout his body. He reached out his hand and gently grabbed Akaashi’s, bringing it up to hold between the two of them.

“Bokuto,” Akaashi breathed, the heat from Bokuto’s skin almost scalding his own, and he could feel himself tremble at the closeness.

Quickly, Bokuto reached into his bag and snatched a small brown bag, dropping it into Akaashi’s upturned palm before jogging away. The last he saw of Bokuto was flash of a smile and the swishing of his hair as it swayed in the wind, and then he was gone. Akaashi looked down, a shaky laugh leaving his lips as he saw yet another blueberry muffin in his hands.

And if he had a blush on his cheeks the rest of his walk to class as he nibbled on his muffin, nobody needed to know that except for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bokuakabeam)


	6. Love On The Brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jesus Christ, this looks like the house from Project X,” Akaashi whined, already dreading having to walk into that mess. “Alright, placing bets now. Hinata’s gonna get drunk off one White Claw, Yamaguchi’s gonna fall down the stairs, and Tsukishima is gonna make two people cry just from his glare.”
> 
> (Or, the part 1/3 chapter where the party happens, and all four of our main friends end up in a bed that is NOT theirs.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on Akaashi, and the next couple chapters will focus on Yamaguchi, Hinata, and Tsukishima and what happens to them at the party. 
> 
> Let me know what you think <3
> 
> This was NOT beta read, so if you see any mistakes I am SORRY.

Fridays were usually spent on the tennis courts perfecting his strategies, but Akaashi found himself out of his element. While he did spend a good few hours on the court tossing serves and playing practice matches with Hinata, Yamaguchi, and Tsukishima, they gave up fairly quickly once Akaashi sent another ball flying into the adjacent court.

“What’s got you so fucked up today?” Tsukishima asked in a huff, jogging back from the court after retrieving the missing ball. “That’s the third time you’ve flubbed a serve.”

“I’m allowed to have off days,” Akaashi snapped, instantly feeling regret when he saw the hurt flash through Tsukishima’s eyes, however briefly it was. “Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Is it about the party tonight?” Hinata asked, and Akaashi stared him down with a glare at bringing it up.

“ _No_ , it’s not about the party tonight. I might not even go,” Akaashi grumbled, stalking over to his gym bag and rifling through it.

“What? You told Bokuto you’d be there!” Hinata reminded him, jogging to join Akaashi over on the side of the court. “Keiji, I’m serious, you should definitely go. You need to let loose.”

“I agree with Hina- Shouyou,” Yamaguchi strolled over, and Akaashi didn’t miss the glance the two of them shot at each other. “You could use a little fun—“

“I’m _sick_ of you guys telling me to let loose!” Akaashi blew up, throwing his arms in the air in exasperation as he glowered at his three friends. “I get that I’m a fuckin’ stick-in-the-mud, and that I’m no fun to be around, but _Jesus fuck_! Leave me alone!” With a huff he collected his things and retreated to the locker rooms, ignoring their calls of his name, determined to shower as quickly as possible to avoid any further conversation on the matter.

As he stood in the shower, letting the water cascade down his skin, Akaashi let his mind wander. He knew deep down that his friends were just looking out for him in their own way, but couldn’t they see that their attempts at getting him to ‘let loose’ were exactly what Akaashi had spent all his time avoiding? He’d never once gone to a party with the intent of getting drunk or hooking up with anybody, and the only experience he had with said parties involved being the sober friend who would drive everybody home at the end of the night. That’s just who he was, and that’s who he wanted to remain. But were his friends right? Did he need to let his inhibitions down, give in for a night and just see where life takes him? Giving up control was altogether a scary thought… But it also exhilarated him.

Luckily, his friends knew to give him his space as he got dressed, but with one look at each of them they already knew what he was thinking before he said it. “Guys—“

“We know, Keiji,” Hinata said, his voice slightly muffled as he struggled to get his shirt on over his torso. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, though. I shouldn’t snap at you guys out of nowhere.”

“It wasn’t out of nowhere,” Tsukishima said, taking his glasses off and rubbing them clean on his shirt. He plopped down on the bench next to Akaashi’s locker and looked up at him, his eyes searching Akaashi’s face. “Hinata kinda mentioned you were having a rough time yesterday.”

“Don’t narc on me, you tattle-tale!” Hinata cried, biting his lip and looking at Akaashi. “I swear I didn’t blab! I just said that you were stressed about some stuff so we should take it easy on you for a little while!”

“It’s okay, Shou,” Akaashi chuckled, amused by his friend’s desperation. “Really. I’m glad they know, you guys are my friends too. I’m just… I don’t want to be a disappointment, I guess.” He punctuated his sentence with a shrug, but he could feel the tears sting his eyes even as he angrily tried to blink them away.

“Keiji,” Yamaguchi sat on the opposite side of the bench, on Akaashi’s left, giving him a serious look. “You’re _never_ gonna be a disappointment, at least not to us. And if your parents can’t see how hard you’re working and how much you’re stretching yourself thin, then…” He trailed off, the end of his sentence not needing to be said for everyone to understand its intent.

“I look up to you so much, Keiji!” Hinata plopped himself down on the concrete floor of the locker room, his amber eyes shining as he gazed up at Akaashi. “Honestly! You’re just so amazing, and you hold yourself so well, I wanna be just like you when I grow up!”

“You’re already grown up, Shou,” Tsukishima rolled his eyes, but Akaashi could easily pinpoint the affection in his eyes. “But I feel the same way. You’re almost always calm and collected — except when you’re yelling at us for slacking off on the court — and I really respect you for it.”

This time the tears that fell from the corners of Akaashi’s eyes were due to the intense love he felt for his friends, and he gave them each a watery smile. “Thank you guys for always being there for me.” And as if it weren’t cliche enough, they all swarmed him in a group hug that reminded Akaashi that home wasn’t necessarily where your family was, but instead in a place that held your heart. And in the scent of sweat and mildew, surrounded by tight arms and burrowing faces, Akaashi could feel his heart being held by the three men he’d spent the last four years alongside.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent lounging around their apartment in various positions on the couch as Akaashi struggled to get ahead on his homework. He hadn’t done as well on the psychology test on the previous day as he had wanted, so he was desperate in his attempt to improve. Hinata and Yamaguchi retired to the former’s bedroom, but Akaashi was happily surprised when he didn’t hear any lewd or pornographic sounds emanating through the walls. Taking a quick break after highlighting yet another sentence in his textbook, he shot off a text to Tsukishima.

**From: Me (4:57pm)**

**> > **did something happen between shou and tadashi? they’ve been acting weird the past couple days

**From: Tsukishima Kei (5:01pm)**

**> >** uhh, i don’t think so? idk for sure tho, they haven’t been here so i guess i haven’t noticed

**From: Me (5:03pm)**

**> >** tadashi didn’t say anything to you?

**From: Tsukishima Kei (5:04pm)**

**> >** aside from saying he didn’t think he loved shou earlier this week? nothing, it’s been as silent as a grave around here

**From: Me (5:05pm)**

**> >** and that didn’t strike you as weird?!

**From: Tsukishima Kei (5:07pm)**

**> >** honestly? i was just glad i couldn’t hear shou’s panting through the walls.

**From: Me (5:08pm)**

**> >** i would have thought you’d get off on that ;)

**From: Tsukishima Kei (5:10pm)**

**> >** shut up

 **> >** …

 **> >** i would if it was me pulling those noises from him

**From: Me (5:14pm)**

**> >** ew don’t say shit like that to me

**From Tsukishima Kei (5:15pm)**

**> >** what, you can eye-fuck bokuto koutarou in the cafeteria for everyone to see but i can’t talk about being with shouyou? you’re kinda hypocritical aren’t you, keij?

**From: Me (5:17pm)**

**> >** i wasn’t,,

 **> >** shut up

 **> >** i hate you

**From: Tsukishima Kei (5:20pm)**

**> >** love u 2

 **> >** finish your homework, i’ll pick you guys up for the party at eight

Another hour slowly ticked by with Akaashi focusing solely on the textbooks and notebooks spread out in front of him, hands covered in yellow highlighter ink and a pencil lodged behind his ear. Hinata had quietly come to check on him as it got later, and had even given him a mug of tea before retreating back to his room. And maybe it was the distraction from the act of kindness, or how hazy his mind felt from spending so long with his nose in the books, but when Akaashi’s phone rang he answered it without checking the Caller ID.

“Hello?” He tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear, nibbling his bottom lip determinedly in order to maintain his focus on the subject he’d been reading.

“Keiji?” Akaashi quickly straightened up at the soft but stern voice that stemmed from his phone’s speaker. He dropped his pencil and held his phone in his hand, opening and shutting his mouth in an attempt to come up with a more formal greeting. “Keiji, you should not be distracted when answering the phone.”

“Sorry, Mother,” he murmured, clearing his throat and speaking again, louder. “Sorry. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing well, work has been keeping me busy.” _As usual_ , Akaashi wanted to say, but kept his mouth pressed in a straight line. “Your father has been as well, although he misses your weekly calls.”

Akaashi cringed, biting down harder on his lip enough that he could taste a slight hint of metal in his mouth. “I-I’m sorry, I’ve just been so busy with school and tennis that—“

The irritated huff of breath from his mother silenced him, and he waited for the lecture to come. “Keiji, I thought we talked about this. The tennis seems to be taking away from your other responsibilities—“

“It’s not!” Akaashi quickly interjected, shooting up from his place on the couch. “I promise that it’s not. I’m still getting high grades in all of my classes, and I think our team has a shot at nationals this year.”

“Keiji, don’t interrupt me,” she spoke slowly but her voice was tight, and Akaashi could tell that her irritability had not diminished. “Tennis is not what you want to do in life, so your father and I do not see the point in you continuously pursuing something that you do not need.”

  
“Tennis makes me happy, Mother,” Akaashi said quietly, and suddenly he felt as if he were a child again, cowardly in the face of a lecture from his parents. He paced around the living room for a moment as he waited for her response.

  
“You do not know what makes you happy, Keiji. That’s why your father and I have decided your career path for you. Once you are set with a doctorate and hired into a practice earning enough money to support yourself, _then_ you’ll be happy. Just listen to your mother, Keiji. I know what is best for you.”

“Yes, Mother,” Akaashi relented with an inaudible sigh. “However, I will be finishing out this year with my team. They need me, and I want to take us to finals this year.”

“Alright fine, Keiji. But as soon as you graduate, you’re moving back home with us as you attend graduate school.”

“What?!” This was the first time in Akaashi’s life that he could remember raising his voice at his mother, and the silence that fell over them made him realize what he’d done. Hinata’s bedroom door swung open, and just as he made eye contact with his two friends as they peeked their heads out of the bedroom, Akaashi’s mother started speaking again.

“Keiji, do _not_ raise your voice at me. You have disappointed us enough with your decisions, and we are not going to stand for you to get insolent now, especially with all the help we have been to you these past four years.”

Something foreign started bubbling in Akaashi’s gut, and he could feel heat begin to rise in his cheeks. He averted his eyes from the prying gazes of his friends, and instead scowled at the coffee table. “What decisions have I made that would wind up in me being insolent? I’ve done everything you and Father have asked of me my entire life, Mother! I’m only getting a psychology degree because _you_ told me to. I’m only at this school because _Father_ attended it. The only thing I’ve done that you didn’t automatically approve of was join the tennis club, and thank God for that because being apart of a team was something I didn’t know I needed.”

“Keiji,” his mother warned, and Akaashi took a wavering breath. “Everything we do is because we know what is best for you. If you are not going to respect our wishes going forward, we are going to have to have a discussion about your education and living situation since we _are_ still paying for you. But if you wish to go off and try and make it on your own without your family to back you up, then by all means, we want to respect your wishes.”

“Mother…” Akaashi objected quietly, but she either didn’t hear him or decided she didn’t care because she continued without acknowledging he’d spoken.

“You are an adult now, Keiji. So in reality, you do not need us. So if that is what you want to do then we have to respect your decision. But just know that we will forever be disappointed in you if you decide to squander all of your education and your potential on something that is beneath you. You’re better than that, Keiji. Whether you can see that in yourself or not, your parents do. I will give you the weekend to decide. Please call me with your decision on Monday.” Without so much as an affectionate word or even just a goodbye, the line went dead and Akaashi was left to sink to his knees onto the carpeted floor.

“Keiji?” Hinata spoke softly, as if worried he’d frighten Akaashi if he talked too loudly or moved too quickly. “Are you okay? That was your mom right?”

“Yeah,” he answered, still staring at the dark screen of his phone, willing for that conversation to have never happened. He cleared his throat, trying to rid the lump that was forming but ultimately failing. “She, uh… She said that if I want her and my father to keep supporting me financially then I have to agree to move back home after graduation.”

“What?” Yamaguchi shouted, his brows furrowing in frustration. “But… You can’t do that, Keiji! You’re finally on your own, it’d suck to have to go back to that kind of environment.”

“I know, but what am I supposed to do? I can’t attend graduate school and earn enough money at a job to support myself. And if I don’t attend graduate school then what was my psychology degree even for? I can’t get a higher-paying job with just a bachelor’s degree. I’d need a master’s or doctorate… _Fuck_!” He punched the carpet, only briefly thinking about the neighbors below them.

“Keiji…” Hinata said again, his voice small and quieter than Akaashi had ever heard it. Before he could say anything else that would ultimately end in Akaashi sobbing into his shoulder, the raven-haired man abruptly stood up and made his way into his bedroom. At a loss, Yamaguchi and Hinata looked at one another before scrambling after Akaashi, assuming that their friend was about to work himself into a panic. When they walked into his room, however, they saw him rifling through his closet, tossing out a few items of clothes onto the bed behind him.

“Uh… Keiji what are you doing?” Yamaguchi spoke up, fiddling with his fingers as he anxiously watched Akaashi move across the room in jerky movements.

“I’m looking for something to wear. What did we used to wear in 2010?” Akaashi asked, keeping his eyes trained on the clothes he’d laid haphazardly on his comforter. “Apple Bottom jeans? Boots with the fur?”

Yamaguchi snorted despite himself, rubbing at his arms. “Ah, I think the Reeboks with the straps.”

“Keiji, maybe we should stay home today?” Hinata suggested, and Akaashi leveled a look at him as the redhead continued. “I mean I know I was the one that said you should come, but especially after that talk with your mom…”

“No, you were right, Shou. I need to loosen up a little, go crazy. On Monday I have to call my mother back with an apology and an acceptance of her terms, so I think this weekend I want to enjoy my last semblance of freedom before I throw myself back where I started.”

“Are you sure about this?” Yamaguchi asked, and Akaashi smiled and nodded. He had a fire in his eyes that his friends only ever saw before matches, so they decided to trust Akaashi’s judgements.

“Alright, let’s get this party started.”

━━━━━━

The way their college campus was set up was a little different than Akaashi had expected when he’d first toured the place. He’d heard tidbits and snippets from his father as he was growing up seeing as the university was his alma mater, but the housing especially was one thing Akaashi had found himself deeply interested in. During freshman year, it was required that each student live in a dorm with a predetermined roommate. This was to further develop social skills and enable each student to learn how to get along with people despite any differences that may arise. And while at first Akaashi had disliked the idea of living someone he didn’t know and wasn’t used to, it had led to his friendship with Hinata, so he couldn’t be too mad about it. However, past freshman year, it was up to the individual student about where they wanted to continue to live. The dorms were still an option but were technically reserved for the incoming freshman; the other options took up in the form of ‘on-campus’ apartments or houses, or students could elect to find their own place off campus.

After his friendship quickly developed with Hinata, Akaashi was happy to consider moving into a place with the spitfire redhead and remain independent from his parents, despite still relying on them for his finances. So the two moved into an ‘on-campus’ apartment, which in reality was a small apartment complex that the university owned that was a five-minute walk from the main campus that housed all the school buildings and cafeteria. The house option had been highly vied for, and was exclusively held for people that wanted to live together in large groups (i.e. the football players). There were only a handful of houses that the university owned, but they were slightly further away from the main campus, giving Tsukishima plenty of reason to finally use the car he’d saved up for.

“Stop acting so proud of this hunk of junk,” Yamaguchi teased from his spot in the passenger seat, and Akaashi chuckled as he watched Tsukishima’s brows furrow in the rearview mirror. “You got it for, like, a hundred bucks from some sketchy guy you met on Craigslist.”

“It was a _thousand_ bucks, thank you very much,” Tsukishima argued, sticking his tongue out childishly at Yamaguchi before quickly returning his eyes to the road. The house the party would be held at was tucked towards the back of the housing units and was the largest of all the others in the area. “And the guy wasn’t sketchy, he owned the carwash in town, remember?”

“The guy that looked like Walter White?”

“He didn’t look like Walter White!”

  
  
“Tsukki, c’mon. He even owned the carwash! If he wasn’t Walter White, then he for _sure_ was trying to cosplay as him.”

“You can’t cosplay as Walter White—“

  
  
“Oh my God, Tsukki, don’t get this argument started again. You can _so_ cosplay as Walter White—“

“ _Guys_ ,” Hinata interrupted, jutting out from his spot next to Akaashi between the two arguing up front, holding his hands up in a mock surrender stance. “As much as I want to hear this argument from the world’s biggest Breaking Bad fans, I think we should park towards the entrance of the complex and walk. There’s bound to be more people the further we get in, and I don’t think we’d be able to find a space.”

“Fine, but if any of you get too drunk to walk I am not carrying you all the way to my car,” Tsukishima threatened drily, tilting the steering wheel to the right and parking along the curb.

It wasn’t too far to walk from where they’d parked to the correct house — how did they know it was the correct house? Well, it was barely eight-thirty at night and there was already two people passed out on the grass, the lights from the house were flashing as if someone had set them to a strobe setting, and the music was blaring with a deafening bass.

“Jesus Christ, this looks like the house from Project X,” Akaashi whined, already dreading having to walk into that mess. “Alright, placing bets now. Hinata’s gonna get drunk off one White Claw, Yamaguchi’s gonna fall down the stairs, and Tsukishima is gonna make two people cry just from his glare.”

“Hey!” Akaashi wasn’t sure who had objected first, but he couldn’t help himself in laughing.

“Hinata, you’re a lightweight, y’know?” Tsukishima said quietly as if he only meant to speak to Hinata, but he had to speak loud enough to be heard over the music as they got closer to the house. “Just be careful with what you drink, yeah?”

“I know, Kei! Besides, I’ve got you there to protect me, don’t I?”

“Always, Shou.” Tsukishima answered. Akaashi eyed Yamaguchi from his peripheral vision but didn’t see anything but anxious excitement as they neared the party. _Weird_.

“Is that Katy Perry?” Tsukishima asked, almost incredulous, as the four of them finally reached the front door. Unsure of whether to knock or not — being the respectable boys that they are, they felt inclined to knock, but realistically knew that nobody would hear them — before they decided to just walk in. “These buff, sexy football players are blasting _Katy Perry_ of all things?”

“Well I’m flattered that you find us sexy, Skinny Jeans,” a deep voice from next to them made Akaashi nearly jump out of his skin before he realized who it was. “I’m not in charge of the playlist though, so don’t blame me for being exposed to California Gurls.”  
  
“Jesus _fuck_ Kuroo, you scared the shit out of me!” Akaashi admonished, holding a hand over his rapidly-beating heart.

“You sure you aren’t just exhilarated to see me?” The teasing lilt in Kuroo’s voice remained as his eyes trailed along each of the newcomers, finally landing on Tsukishima. “Whatcha glaring at me for?”

“I’m not even wearing skinny jeans, why’d you call me that?” Tsukishima _pouted_ , actually pouted, and Akaashi had to pick up his jaw from the floor. Leave it to Kuroo Tetsurou to fluster even the most detached person, even if Akaashi never would have imagined Tsukishima to fall victim to something as simple as a half-assed nickname.

“You’re telling me you found regular jeans that hug your ass like that and they’re _not_ skinny jeans? Jesus, blondie, you’re a goddamn treasure.” Kuroo shot one more smirk towards Tsukishima — who looked like he was about to explode in anger — before he turned his attention onto Hinata. “Hey Red, how’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good!” Hinata bounced in place, happy that the attention was on him. “Thanks for inviting us!”

“Of course! Four years here and none of us has ever spent quality time with one another, and if that’s not a sin then I dunno what is,” Kuroo grinned widely.

Akaashi took a brief look around just from what he could see from the entryway, and spoke up. “I can give you at least four things in this hallway alone that could be considered a sin, if you’d like?”

“Shut up, ‘Kaashi, I was talking to your friend here,” Kuroo frowned but maintained the playful look in his eyes as he kept them trained on Hinata. “Speaking of… Hey, Red. I got some friends over here that I’d love for you to meet. Wanna come?”

“Oh,” Hinata smiled before quickly dialing it back, restraining from being so openly transparent. “Tad-Tadashi, is it alright if I hang out with Kuroo for a little while?” His words seemed to hold a deeper meaning that Akaashi couldn’t quite figure out without context clues, so he just furrowed his brows and looked towards Yamaguchi.

“Sure, Shou. Just be careful, okay?” He gave the redhead a warm, reassuring smile before he was being dragged off by the football player deeper into the house, lost almost instantly to the crowd.

“And then there were three,” Akaashi hummed. Without needing to confirm with the remaining two friends, Akaashi began making his way out of the entryway and further into the house, trying his best to avoid being bumped into by drunken students and dancing couples. “Jesus,” he muttered, barely grazing someone and nearly getting knocked to his ass.

“Careful,” he heard Tsukishima say, and Yamaguchi made a comment that he couldn’t quite make out, but Akaashi just nodded his head as he tried to make his way towards where he believed the kitchen would be.

Finally, _finally_ , they made it out of the dense group of people, the smell of sweat and way too much cologne clogging his nose. But Akaashi could see the stacks drinks and jars of liquor piled up on the island in the middle of the kitchen, and he knew where he needed to be.

“Tadashi!” He could hear Tsukishima yelling for their friend, but all he could see was a tuft of blond hair over the crowd. “Ugh, fine.” Tsukishima was next to him now, shaking his head.

“Where’d he go?” Akaashi asked, rifling through the drink choices on the tabletop.

“He’s dancing with some dude. Said he couldn’t turn down a chance to ‘grind on a football player to Like a G6’. Maybe something _did_ happen between him and Shou, you think?” Tsukishima rubbed at his jaw in thought, and Akaashi decided on starting them off with two lukewarm bottles of beer. He popped the caps off and handed Tsukishima his, and chugged half of his own down before anybody could stop him.

“Fuck, that tastes terrible,” Akaashi grimaced, licking his lips and tasting the stale aftertaste of the shitty beer.

“Well anything tastes terrible if you down it like that,” Tsukishima looked at his friend warily, already figuring the logistics behind trying to carry all three of his friends back to his car. “Hey, are you alright? Shou mentioned—“

“I don’t wanna talk about it. I’m here to let loose, remember?” Akaashi interrupted, letting his voice soften as he spoke in an attempt to show Tsukishima that he was fine, just that he wanted to not relive anything at the current moment. As the idea of even talking to his mother began to infiltrate his mind, Akaashi quickly finished off his beer and grabbed another drink — without looking and simply by tasting it, he could tell that it was some kind of seltzer.

“Well there’s letting loose and then there’s going batshit crazy,” Tsukishima mumbled, nursing his beer.

Before Akaashi could retort, there came that familiar cry. “‘Kaashi! You came!”

“I said I would, Bokuto,” he smiled slightly, turning towards the front of the kitchen and letting out a grunt as he was pulled into a hard chest. “B-Bokuto—“

“I’m just so glad you’re here, ‘Kaashi! I was worried you’d bail!” Bokuto squeezed Akaashi into himself, and Akaashi was suddenly glad for the slight buzz from the beer so he couldn’t feel all his bones being crushed into dust. After another moment of Bokuto blabbing about his excitement at Akaashi’s attendance, he let the shorter man go, and turned his attention to Tsukishima. “Hey, Tsukki. How’re you doing?”

“I’m doing good, Bokuto. How’re you?” Tsukishima spoke politely, but Akaashi could see the hint of amusement in his friend’s eyes at the previous spectacle.

“I’m good, Tsukki! Especially now that ‘Kaashi is here, the party can officially get started!” He whooped, getting louder at the end of his announcement, and several people in the crowd of dancers whooped in excitement.

“Are you telling me that this wasn’t the _official_ start to the party? There’s like half the football team already plastered,” Tsukishima gawked, and Bokuto let out a hearty laugh.

“Nah, I’m just being dramatic. Apparently I tend to do that,” he grumbled, pursing his lips. “Anywho! ‘Kaashi! I have people I want you to meet, can you come hang with me? I promise I’ll keep an eye on him, Tsukki!” Akaashi couldn’t help but giggle at the pleading tone and puppy-dog eyes that Bokuto gave to Tsukishima, as if he was asking parental permission to take Akaashi on a date.

_Woah, Akaashi. Let’s not get hasty and start associating Bokuto with dating._

“Sure. Keiji, watch yourself. I’ll be right here if you need me, alright?” Tsukishima spoke to Akaashi directly, cautiously eyeing the fact that Akaashi was already two drinks in and reaching for a third.

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” Akaashi saluted and giggled at the exasperated sigh that left Tsukishima’s lips. “I’m kidding, Kei! I know. I’ll be careful.”

“You’re only two drinks in and you’re calling me Captain. You only do that when you’re getting tipsy. Just… Watch it, alright? But have fun.”

Akaashi smiled gratefully at his friend before letting himself be gently pulled away by Bokuto, his strong hand wrapped fully around Akaashi’s own wrist. They maneuvered through the house, skillfully avoiding the overcrowded dance floor — was that Tadashi being pressed against the wall? No, it couldn’t be. Akaashi shook his head, trying to clear the haze that had begun to settle over his thoughts and took another swig from the drink he’d picked up. This one had a sharper taste to it, and he could feel the burn of the alcohol all the way down his throat.

Bokuto was talking about the party preparations and how much had gone into deciding the playlist — apparently he wasn’t in charge either, and didn’t want to be blamed for the amount of pop songs that played — and Akaashi could do little more than hum and nod along, too preoccupied with the nice way Bokuto’s rough palm felt against the skin of Akaashi’s wrist. How would it feel if those hands pinned his wrists above his head as he ground his hips against Akaashi’s? Or if Bokuto slid those hands down Akaashi’s bare torso and gripped his waist, hard enough to leave bruises, and held him down as he situated himself between Akaashi’s spread legs—

“You okay, ‘Kaashi? Your face is getting all red. Is it too hot in here? I can go fix the thermostat,” Bokuto offered, and instantly pulled Akaashi out of his own lewd thoughts enough to realize that his body had begun to react to his wild imagination.

“‘M fine, Bokuto. Sorry. I’m fine,” Akaashi reassured the man, repeating himself as that concerned gaze remained on his face as if searching for a lie.

“Okay… But if you _do_ get too hot, tell me! And I’ll fix it for ya, okay?” Bokuto’s smile was contagious, and Akaashi was too loosened up to deny himself of anything, so he smiled back brightly. Bokuto’s steps faltered, and Akaashi’s smile instantly fell, looking toward the man in apprehension.

“Are you okay, Bokuto?”

“Y-Yeah, you just… You should smile more, you look r-really good when you do,” Bokuto swallowed thickly, and Akaashi quickly felt the blush creep back up from his neck and onto his face, and he covered his face with his hands.

“You can’t just say shit like that, Bokuto,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands, and he heard a shy laugh.

“Sorry, ‘Kaashi. It’s just true. I’m like Pinocchio in that way: I cannot tell a lie!” Bokuto declared, jabbing his thumb towards his chest proudly and Akaashi let out a small snort of laughter. “Now, c’mon! We’re almost there!”

“Where exactly are we going, Bokuto?” Akaashi asked, finally gaining some semblance of self-preservation instinct as the man continued leading him through the house before they reached the basement steps. “If this were a movie, the entire audience would be screaming at me not to go down those stairs with you.”

Bokuto rolled his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest, accentuating his pecs and biceps. “Well you don’t _have_ to come down there with me. But this is where all the cool kids hang out.” Akaashi raised his eyebrow at Bokuto’s attempt to persuade him and chuckled.

“Oh, is that so? And, what, you’re part of the cool kids gang?”

“I’m the CEO and founder!” Akaashi snickered at the ribbing intonation in Bokuto’s voice, and Bokuto once again paused to take in Akaashi’s appearance. “Goddamn, ‘Kaashi, you gotta stop doing that.”

“I’m not—!”

“C’mon, let’s go!” Bokuto tugged at Akaashi’s shirt, once again giving a puppy-dog look — he should really get that trademarked, it works like a charm — and Akaashi relented.

The basement wasn’t much, but it was practically what Akaashi had expected. It was a bit larger than he’d anticipated, room enough for a pool table shoved off to the side and two large couches taking up the most space. A lush, sizable rug was placed between the two couches, and that’s where a small group of people sat spread out and in a disorganized circle. He could still hear the loud thrumming of the music from upstairs — the song had switched to something by 3OH!3 — but the lyrics were muffled and it was quiet enough to hear a discussion at normal volume. Akaashi eyed the small table tucked between the two couches that held several unopened cans of seltzer and beer, already looking for something else to take the edge off as the anxiety began seeping through his skin.

  
“Hey guys,” Bokuto greeted cheerfully, waving with his free hand as he kept his other wrapped around Akaashi’s wrist. “This is Akaashi, Akaashi this is everybody!” He gestured towards the group on the floor, and Akaashi pursed his lips. He recognized a few of the people, but couldn’t exactly put names to faces.

“Well since Bo is a lazy-ass and won’t introduce everybody…” a spiky-haired redhead spoke, grunting as he bounced up from his spot on the carpet, “I’ll take over as your tour guide for the evening.” He grinned, bowing slightly in a dramatic fashion and stalked over to Akaashi, hooking his arm in Akaashi’s and pulling him over to the group. Someone handed Akaashi a drink, which he gratefully took a large swig of, and he let himself be introduced to everybody.

“To start, I’m Tendou!” The redhead grinned again, making Akaashi feel a little bit more comfortable at the kindness he was emanating. “I’m dating _that_ sweet pea over there,” he gestured to a ashy-blond man that was sat on the carpet and leaning against the front of the couch.

“My name’s Semi, don’t call me sweet pea,” he rolled his eyes good-naturedly and took a sip of his own beer.

“Potato, po-tah-to,” Tendou waved off his boyfriend, gesturing to another couple. “That’s Iwaizumi and Oikawa, they’re sickeningly in love.”

“Ugh, don’t introduce me like that,” Iwaizumi complained, earning a slap to his shoulder from Oikawa.

  
“It’s sweet!” Oikawa whined with a pout, and he turned to look up at Akaashi. “You’re gorgeous! I can see why Bokuto likes you!”

“Uh, mind ya business!” Bokuto called from the pool table, where he had started up a game with another friend of his.

“I was just complimenting your ability to pick ‘em!” Oikawa called back, adorning another pout on his lips. “You just have good taste, that’s all~”

“Need I remind you that you’re literally sitting in my lap, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi growled into his boyfriend’s ear and Oikawa shivered.

“Ah, Iwa, I love when you get all possessive and predatory, it turns me on,” Oikawa turned to where he was straddling Iwaizumi’s lap and began pressing languid kisses along the man’s jaw.

“See? Disgusting,” Tendou scrunched his nose just as Akaashi turned away from the scene, a blush high on his cheeks. “You’ll get used to it, especially if you keep hanging with Bokuto. Anybody in a couple just likes to practically _fuck_ in front of everybody. Buncha voyeurs. Anyway! Moving on! Keep your hands and feet in the ride at all times,” he tilted his head from side to side to the beat of the muffled song from upstairs, and led Akaashi to the opposite couch.

“Hey!” The shorter of the two bounced in his spot on the ground, and the fleeting thought that he’d get along really well with Hinata flashed through Akaashi’s mind. “I’m Nishinoya! This here’s Tanaka! We’ve heard a lot about you!”

“Are all of you like my parents?” Bokuto whined, and Akaashi giggled at his expense. “Stop embarrassing me in front of ‘Kaashi!”

“Sorry bro,” Tanaka apologized, nudging Nishinoya with his elbow. “Dude shut up or he’ll shave your eyebrows again.”

“He shaved your eyebrows?” Akaashi asked incredulously, eyes darting between the two gaping men on the couch and Tendou, who was trying to stifle a bark of laughter.

“What did I just say?!” Bokuto cried, a sound _whack_ of the billiard balls accentuating his statement.

Ignoring Bokuto’s outburst, Akaashi nearly began springing in place, giddiness bubbling up in his stomach. “Why’d he shave your eyebrows off?!”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Nishinoya mumbled, looking away bashfully.

“Was it because you lost a dare or because you pissed him off? I don’t remember,” Iwaizumi pulled himself away from Oikawa long enough to ask the question, his face flushed and his boyfriend close to panting above him.

“I said—“ Nishinoya was about to repeat himself before Tendou started busting out laughing, having to clutch his stomach from how hard he was shaking.

“It was because he lost that bet with him about Tanaka, remember?” Tendou was able to breathe out, causing Nishinoya to bury his face in his hands and Tanaka to join in his laughter.

“Oh yeah! Noya didn’t think I could get the captain of the cheer team to date me. Well guess who’s been dating for two years?” Tanaka was clearly teasing his friend, but Akaashi smiled warmly at the affectionate expression Tanaka made while thinking about his girlfriend. “Her name’s Kiyoko.”

“Oh, I think I’ve had a couple classes with her. She’s very kind,” Akaashi mentioned, and Tanaka’s eyes shined. Before Tendou could move on to introduce the final person — the guy that had gotten up to play pool with Bokuto — Akaashi waved to him. “And I’ve met Kageyama several times. Hey.”

“Hey, ‘Kaashi. How’ve you been? How’s Shou?” Kageyama called out as he leaned over the table, lining up his shot. At Bokuto’s questioning glance between him and Akaashi, Kageyama elaborated. “I was in a class with his roommate sophomore year, I think? And we had a lot of projects together so I was over at their apartment a lot. And then Shou and I hung out some in junior year too before he got more preoccupied. He still with that boyfriend of his?” He directed the question to Akaashi, who just shrugged his shoulders.

_Guess alcohol made him more transparent_.

“He’s upstairs with Kuroo, I think,” Akaashi added, watching as Kageyama perked up at that. “I dunno exactly where, but just thought I’d let you know.” At that, Akaashi plopped down on the edge of the couch, effortlessly downing the rest of his drink and asking Semi to pass him another just as Tendou settled next to him.

Kageyama finished off his turn, easily winning the game much to the despair of Bokuto who kept crying out with every ball he sunk in, and then excused himself to dart upstairs. Bokuto huffed as he set the pool table back up, aligning all the balls in the center, and Akaashi’s eyes kept trailing along the contours of Bokuto’s back muscles and down his ass and legs.

“Ya like what you see, ‘Kaashi?” Bokuto called from the pool table, swaying his hips as he sauntered towards the center of the room, maintaining eye contact with Akaashi the whole way.

“You’re so full of yourself,” Akaashi scoffed, peeling his gaze away from Bokuto and back down to the group. Iwaizumi and Oikawa had calmed down and were now sat next to each other deep in discussion; Nishinoya and Tanaka had followed closely on Kageyama’s heels, shouting something about finding their dates before they were stolen away from them; and Tendou and Semi had kept up a comfortable conversation with Akaashi (before he began longingly thirsting after Bokuto, that is), asking about his major and tennis.

Bokuto slid easily between his friends on the ground until he reached Akaashi, sitting closely against him and placing his arm on the back of the couch. His body language exemplified his nonchalance about the situation, but Akaashi suddenly went rigid with how close they were, the heat of Bokuto’s skin feeling scalding even through layers of clothes.

“You feel like you’re loosening up yet, ‘Kaashi?” Bokuto asked with a soft smile and Akaashi was suddenly powerless against it, so he smiled back.

“Yeah, I think I’m definitely getting there.” Just to prove — more to himself than anybody else — just how relaxed he was feeling, Akaashi let himself lean back into the couch and into the crook of Bokuto’s arm. Peering out of the corner of his eyes, he could see a light blush adorn Bokuto’s cheekbones, and he inwardly high fived himself for getting _the_ Bokuto Koutarou to blush.

“So Akaashi, how did you and Bokuto officially meet?” Semi asked, slightly turning his body away from Tendou to give his full attention to the men on the couch across from them. Oikawa and Iwaizumi took their places on the couch furthest away from Akaashi and Bokuto, also focusing on the conversation at hand.

“He bumped into me in the shower,” Bokuto answered, and began chuckling when he saw Akaashi shoot him a glare. “Well you did! You were half-naked and running rampant in the locker room, and the brave, valiant football player had to step in and stop you.”

“Oh, as if!” Akaashi scoffed, moving to sit up to continue arguing but Bokuto’s arm tightened around his shoulders and pulled him closer against his side. “You were the one strutting around like Brad Pitt in nothing but a teeny tiny towel!”

“Eh? Teeny tiny?! It’s not my fault that standard-sized towels can’t contain my beefcake ass!” Bokuto whined, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face, his lips spreading so widely that his eyes began crinkling at the sides.

“Beefcake ass?” Akaashi laughed, almost sputtering out his drink.

“Yeah! I might as well be Superman, I’m practically _busting_ out of my clothes at any moment!” Bokuto’s hand slid from Akaashi’s shoulder to rest on his waist, and Akaashi was grateful that he could blame his flushed features on the alcohol or the giggling.

“If you’re a superhero, you’d definitely be a knockoff Superman, like Captain McMuscles or something,” Akaashi quipped, laughing even harder at his own joke as he finished off yet another drink.

_How many was that?_ He’d lost count, but he could feel the warmth trickling from his stomach to all his extremities. And add that to the warmth he felt being pressed up against Bokuto, and Akaashi was feeling just all around _good_.

“Captain McMuscles?” Bokuto roared in laughter, clapping his free hand on his knee and further tightening his grip on Akaashi. “You really _do_ call everybody captain when you get drunk! Maybe we should get you back up to Tsukishima,” he hummed, not making a move to get up.

“No,” Akaashi whined childishly, one hand gripping his empty beer bottle and the other clutching onto Bokuto’s shirt. “Not yet, please Bo?” He began trailing his hand along Bokuto’s torso as if in a trance, his fingers lightly tracing up and over the ridges of well-defined abs and up to his chest. When he ran over something soft, Bokuto shivered, and Akaashi vaguely realized he’d grazed Bokuto’s nipple. Akaashi kept his eyes on Bokuto’s face to watch for his reaction, slowly moving his fingers along his chest and back to that sensitive spot.

Bokuto bit down on his lip and, just as Akaashi’s pointer finger circled the clothed nipple, he _whimpered_. Bokuto Koutarou _whimpered_ because Akaashi had caressed his nipple, and suddenly Akaashi was feeling way too hot.

“Oh, fuck me,” Akaashi breathed, mostly to himself, but based on the dark look Bokuto sent him he was clearly heard. Their eyes met, piercing gold staring into hazy blue, and Akaashi sighed softly. Bokuto opened his mouth to say something, his brows furrowing slightly as he took in Akaashi’s clouded expression, but was interrupted.

“Isn’t that why you’re here anyway?” Oikawa asked flippantly, already beginning to toy with the hem of Iwaizumi’s shirt.

Akaashi pulled his gaze away from Bokuto’s and looked towards Oikawa. When nobody else denied what he’d said, Akaashi just scoffed. “What, is that what you do, Bokuto? Bug people for a week until they come to your party and then you get them drunk enough to wanna fuck you?”

“What? ‘Kaashi, no, Oikawa was just—“ Bokuto sat up straighter, pulling his arm from around Akaashi to turn and fully face him.

“I always wondered how you got around, Bokuto,” Akaashi laughed detachedly, rubbing at his eyes to try and clear them — whether they were cloudy from the alcohol or from the formation of tears, he could not figure out. “I always wondered how you found these _idiots_ that you could have fun with once and then leave in the dirt.”

“Hey, I don’t leave anybody in the dirt,” Bokuto began to raise his voice, but it was apparent that he was trying to maintain his cool. “Whatever you hear around campus, ‘Kaashi, it’s greatly exaggerated.”

“Oh really?” Akaashi ripped his hands away from Bokuto when the latter had moved to try and hold them in his own. “Alright,” Akaashi turned and addressed the room. “If you’ve fucked or _been fucked_ by Bokuto, raise your hand.”

Slowly and hesitantly, Tendou, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi all raised their hands. Semi, trying to lighten the mood, made a passing comment of: “Man, I was really left out of that memo.”

Akaashi quirked an eyebrow at Bokuto, who in turn was clenching and unclenching his fists in his lap but saying nothing. “Greatly exaggerated, eh? I can’t believe I let you talk me into coming here when all you wanted was a quick fuck. Why me, huh? Like I don’t have enough going on—“

“‘Kaashi, please listen to me,” Bokuto started, but Akaashi was already standing up and making his way to the stairs. “Akaashi! Listen! You’re drunk, you’re not thinking clearly, please listen to me.”

“Who the _fuck_ are you to decide whether I’m drunk or not? You don’t know me! Literally three out of the four people in this room _alone_ have been with you. You weaseled your way in to try and get your dick wet. Well I’m sorry, Bokuto, but you’ll have to find somewhere else to stick it because I am _not_ just gonna be one of the many.” Akaashi could feel angry tears start to fall down his cheeks, so he quickly turned away from Bokuto and began heading up the stairs.

He ignored the shouts from Oikawa — “Akaashi, it was just a joke!” — and the pleas from Bokuto — “‘Kaashi, please listen! I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you, I swear!” — and made his way back to the center of the party. The music steadily grew louder until Akaashi could barely hear his own thoughts, and suddenly he felt much less unsteady than he’d originally been. His knees felt weak and his face was overheated, and he was desperate for another drink. Anything to just block out the thoughts that kept swarming in his head.

Akaashi stumbled into the kitchen, uncaring as he bumped into several people dancing and one couple that was making out in the hallway, and shakily began preparing himself something harder to drink. His hands shook as he grabbed a shot glass and a bottle of golden-brown liquor. Before taking a drink, his eyes scanned the kitchen, looking for that familiar blond hair. When his search came up empty, Akaashi threw back the shot, wincing as the liquor — tequila — slid down his throat. He laughed humorlessly and mentally prepared himself for a long night. Sweat pricked the back of his neck, and before his body became overwhelmed from the intense heat, Akaashi poured himself another drink.

Once he’d taken the second shot, the rest of the night became a blur. He could remember flashes of the rest of the night: running his fingers through soft hair, a steady hand on the small of his back, the cool air of the night as the breeze blew against his skin. Other snippets, like a tight grip on his hips and the sound of heavy gasps and pants, the rustling of clothes as they are flung to the floor and his face pressed into a pillow.

A steady stream of sunlight slightly brightened up the room as the sun rose, signifying the start of a new day. Akaashi could feel his head throbbing and his eyes struggled to open against the brightness of the room. It took him a moment, his brain sluggishly and slowly beginning to catch up with his surroundings, but Akaashi finally realized that the weight on his chest wasn’t just from the hangover. There was an arm on top of him. Quickly — or as quickly as one can with a hangover from hell — Akaashi cracked open an eyelid, confirming that yes, there was an arm on top of him, and his ass was indeed pressed against another person’s junk. _He was naked, in bed with a stranger, and they were spooning him._

_Shit, shit, shit._ He slowly gazed around the room, noting the messy desk and haphazard posters strewn along the walls. _This was not his room._ Akaashi’s head pounded and he flopped his head back onto the pillow, taking into consideration that at least the pillows were nice and soft. The arm around him slowly slid down to his waist, gripping him tightly and pulling him further into the unknown stranger’s chest, and Akaashi shivered as the man’s nose burrowed into his neck and let out a soft sigh.

Akaashi, rigid where he lay, could only think one thought. _Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bokuakabeam)


	7. My First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Undercut, huh? Can’t I get a cuter nickname?” That pout was back — it must be this guy’s trademark — but it didn’t reach his eyes. 
> 
> “Hm,” Yamaguchi pretended to think as he wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, pulling their bodies flush. “How about stigmatophile?” 
> 
> “Well then, if we’re going based on appearances alone, I’d have to call you Bambi.”
> 
> (Or part 2/3 of the party from Yamaguchi's perspective.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, not beta-read because I can't look at this chapter anymore

Yamaguchi Tadashi struggled with the concept of love. From a platonic standpoint, he knew that he deeply loved his family because of the amount of support and encouragement they provided him throughout the years. He was always more of an introvert, never really pushing himself past his comfort zone and keeping to himself in classes and extracurriculars. He just never really saw the point in pursuing a friendship that would ultimately end, seeing that as the people around him grew and matures, Yamaguchi stayed relatively the same. What could he offer to potential friends that other people didn’t already display? He felt that he was dull and too quiet to keep up a steady conversation, and while he was always kind he didn’t possess the ability to lighten anybody’s mood or brighten a room when he entered it. So really, what was the point?

That must be why, he supposes, his friendship with Tsukishima Kei had seemed so effortless. They’d met in middle school when these three particularly cruel classmates had elected to tease Yamaguchi relentlessly for something or another — he couldn’t really place the reasons now that he was older, but he knew that his middle school years had been merciless. Tsukishima had just been walking home from school, almost like he didn’t have a care in the world, when he made a passing remark over his shoulders. And Yamaguchi, to this day, was still unsure whether Tsukishima was calling the _bullies_ lame for picking on somebody, or if he was calling _Yamaguchi_ lame for being too weak to fight back. That thought didn’t even occur to Yamaguchi in that moment, because the one thing he so desperately wanted at that young age was to be as carefree as that blond boy. (Of course, after befriending Tsukishima and knowing him for as long as Yamaguchi did, he knew that assumption couldn’t be more incorrect. But as a child, his only thought was that he wanted to _not care_ as much as Tsukishima, because if he cared too much he was scared he’d get hurt.)

Growing up alongside Tsukishima — Tsukki once he’d gotten comfortable enough around the blond to assign him a nickname — had been everything and nothing like Yamaguchi had expected. Sure, Tsukishima came across more aloof and indifferent in the eyes of their teachers and peers; but behind closed doors and with people he cared about, Tsukishima opened up more, detailing the issues he had with his overbearing parents and older brother. Yamaguchi did the same, finally relaxing in the company of someone he felt could understand him, understand the issues he had in striving to live up to his parents’ expectations and ultimately failing. Someone that could understand the feeling of wanting to be good enough so badly, and coming to the realization that you’d never be good enough. And it was during these formative years where Tsukishima taught Yamaguchi that it was okay to make your own path in life, that it was okay not to live _for_ other people, and instead live for himself. Tsukishima taught Yamaguchi that love wasn’t just something to be given and received, but it was something that could be dispersed in the form of self-confidence and pride. It was because of these lessons that Tsukishima drove so forcefully into Yamaguchi’s mind that he was able to add another person into his life that he came to love.

Freshman year of university was problematic for a myriad of reasons. Yamaguchi had felt safe and supported by the fact that Tsukishima would be joining him in this new chapter of their lives, and they’d even been lucky enough to be roomed together in an on-campus dorm room. His parents were pushing for Yamaguchi to broaden his horizons, and even with the vagueness of their suggestion he could hear the embarrassment in their tone of voice. He knew he wasn’t what his parents had envisioned of their only son; Yamaguchi would never be the outgoing, athletic superstar that they’d had their hearts set on the day that he was born.

He should have known that Tsukishima’s suggestion of joining the tennis club would change his life — thankfully for the better.

It had taken a few months for Yamaguchi to get the hang of all the rules and expectations that came with the sport, but he found it satisfying when he’d get a particularly good serve over the net, the _whack_ of the ball against the racket ringing in his ears for long after the ball had left his side of the court. Knowing that he’d been useful in his side’s efforts was such a gratifying feeling that he began to crave. The idea of _more_ was foreign to Yamaguchi, who had been so used to just accepting what life sent his way, and the hunger that he felt deep in his chest wouldn’t go away, no matter how many points he earned. The competitive spirit ran deep within his university’s tennis club, and Yamaguchi finally had a sense of belonging among a larger group of people — not to mention even Tsukishima was beginning to amp himself up when it came to official games and practice matches. It seemed it was all coming together, and Yamaguchi was steadily starting to feel whole.

Yamaguchi had come to the acceptance that he didn’t need to love another person to feel complete, but that instead he desired someone to love him completely. All his quirks and shortcomings, his insecurities and modesty; he wanted so desperately for someone to see who he was _as_ he was, and love him for it. He knew that his family loved him — although it was difficult for him to see past their dissatisfaction at his past failures — and he knew that he always had an unconditional friend in Tsukishima. But he always wondered, in the deep recesses of his mind, what it would be like to love someone and have his love returned just as passionately. Yamaguchi wanted that kind of intensity, even if he didn’t feel like he deserved it.

That desire was fulfilled in the unpredictable anomaly that was Hinata Shouyou.

With Yamaguchi only just now coming to terms with his newfound ambition, Hinata seemed to have been born with it. Like he came into this world kicking and screaming, forever determined to move faster, jump higher, scream louder. Anything that Hinata set his mind out to, he wanted to dominate, and Yamaguchi found himself absolutely enchanted with the redhead. His kick serves, his cross-court shots, and even the errors he made, Hinata did them with so much feeling that Yamaguchi couldn’t help but find himself falling. It took quite some time for him to realize that his appreciation for Hinata went deeper than on strictly a teammate level, or even a friend level. Those amber eyes seemed to capture him every time they locked with his own, that bright smile would cinch his heart and cause his breath to catch in his throat. Everything about Hinata was luminous, and Yamaguchi wanted to bask in his light.

━━━━━━

The distance between he and Hinata was almost too much. Normally they’d ride in the backseat of Tsukishima’s car together — during the infrequent times they’d take excursions beyond campus — and any chance they had to touch one another they would jump on. It was as if Hinata was a drug and Yamaguchi was an addict. He’d normally seek anything that Hinata would give him, any gentle caress, any lingering kisses. Anything Hinata was willing to share, Yamaguchi would swallow up greedily. But now, as Yamaguchi was in the front seat and Hinata lounged in the back, the tension between them was almost palpable.

The night of the party was going to be different, and Yamaguchi was both terrified and exhilarated.

“Hey Red, how’ve you been?” The moment Kuroo addressed Hinata, Yamaguchi felt his heart drop into his stomach. They’d come to the decision a few days prior, so it was completely up to Hinata who he talked to and who he spent his time with. But it still hurt to see someone he loved so dearly look at someone else besides him.

But he wouldn’t let himself be selfish. He wouldn’t let himself hold Hinata back just because he was having trouble getting over their relationship.

“Tad-Tadashi, is it alright if I hang out with Kuroo for a little while?” Yamaguchi was pulled out of his own head when Hinata directed a question towards him. To everyone else, it was just a boyfriend seeking approval. But to Yamaguchi, he knew that Hinata was asking permission. Permission to seek out what they had clearly been lacking, permission to look at someone else in the way he’d always looked at Yamaguchi.

Permission to move on.

“Sure, Shou. Just be careful, okay?” He tried to give Hinata the most reassuring smile he could muster, watching as those amber eyes lightened up being given this opportunity. With a small wave, Hinata was dragged off into the depths of the party, and Yamaguchi finally felt a sense of finality once he could no longer see that exuberant redhead that had dug his way into his life and heart. He didn’t feel as empty as he thought he would, but there was a crack in his heart that hadn’t been there before.

“And then there were three,” Akaashi hummed, and Yamaguchi began bouncing on the balls of his feet. The party was in full-swing, even having just started a half hour prior, and the three of them slowly began making their way out of the entryway.

Akaashi was leading them both — the authoritative role had always been placed on Akaashi, even when they were freshman — and Yamaguchi was trailing behind Tsukishima. It was very difficult not to bump into people, especially those that began throwing themselves into aggressive dance moves to keep up with the beat of a… Is that a Ke$ha song? He could hear Tsukishima saying something, probably mumbling about being cautious around all these drunken bastards, but Yamaguchi couldn’t quite make it out.

All too suddenly, Yamaguchi’s line of sight swirled — where he had been looking at the back of Tsukishima’s neck, he was suddenly staring into someone’s eyes, their smirk illuminating the fire they held.

“Hey, Freckles. Care to dance?” The blond asked, and Yamaguchi couldn’t help but flicker his eyes at the flash of silver on the man’s tongue. _Holy shit_.

“I get a feeling that you wouldn’t accept no for an answer,” Yamaguchi said, gesturing to the blond’s hands that were already gripping Yamaguchi’s waist and pressing them close together.

“If you say no I’ll back off,” the blond pouted, and Yamaguchi had the overwhelming thought of _cute_. “But you haven’t said no, and you haven’t spit in my face or kicked me in the nuts, so I can already deduce that this is turning out much better than I’d hoped.”

“So I guess I can assume that you’ve had some bad first date experiences?”

“Oh, you have no idea, Freckles. But once they find out what this tongue piercing does, they tend to stick around.” He winked. _This motherfucker winked at him_.

Yamaguchi giggled, ready to respond with something equally as cheeky, before he heard his name being called and was tugged away. Tsukishima looked between them with an annoyed frown, and gestured toward the kitchen with his head. “C’mon, Akaashi is waiting for us.”

“I think I’m gonna dance with Undercut over here,” Yamaguchi winked back at the blond, a feeling of triumph settling over him when he sees the light blush on the man’s cheeks. “Besides, when am I gonna get the chance to grind to Like A G6 again?” Before he would have to listen to a lecture from Tsukishima, Yamaguchi slid back into the blond’s arms and worked his way deeper into the crowd of dancers.

“Undercut, huh? Can’t I get a cuter nickname?” That pout was back — it must be this guy’s trademark — but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hm,” Yamaguchi pretended to think as he wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, pulling their bodies flush. “How about stigmatophile?”

The blond huffed out a laugh, pressing a hand on the small of Yamaguchi’s back and resting the other low on his waist. “Well then, if we’re going based on appearances alone, I’d have to call you Bambi.”

“What! Why?” Yamaguchi pulled back far enough to look at the blond with a confused expression, eyebrows furrowed.

“Because of _that_ ,” the blond tilted his head in a gesture towards Yamaguchi as a whole. “That doe-eyed innocent look. At first glance, it looks like you don’t belong here among the swarms of sweaty, horny guys. But based on these dance moves alone — _fuck_ — I can tell you fit _right in_.” As he was talking, Yamaguchi leisurely spun around so his back was to the man’s chest, slowly moving his hips back against him.

Yamaguchi giggled, his breaths coming out in soft pants as the heat of the room began getting to him. Sweat was pricking on his exposed skin, and he could feel the hair start to curl on the back of his neck. The blond’s hands had traveled along the sides of Yamaguchi’s torso, slightly pulling his shirt up to expose his bellybutton.

_“Holy shit_ , you have a bellybutton ring?” The blond’s breath hitched as the gleam of silver caught his eye just before Yamaguchi’s shirt fell back into place.

He chuckled despite feeling his face heat up, and he nodded. It was lucky that they were close enough to one another, practically breathing each other’s air, so he could talk at a softer volume and still be heard over the music. “I got super drunk at a party freshman year, and I let some random guy poke me with a needle. He said he’d done it before, but based on how infected it got I can safely say he was _not_ a professional.”

The chest behind him rumbled as the blond let out a hearty laugh, gripping Yamaguchi’s waist tighter and nuzzling his nose into the side of his neck. “You’re interesting, you know that?”

“That’s a new one.” They danced to several songs just like that, keeping their bodies close against each other, and every so often teasing one another with a tighter grip or a swirl of their hips. Yamaguchi huffed just as the music changed. “Oh c’mon, this song wasn’t released in 2010!”

“Ya feelin’ a sense of nostalgia there, Freckles?” The blond hummed, the warm air from his lips ghosting across Yamaguchi’s neck and causing goosebumps to rise. “This is a good song, after all.”

‘I Wanna Love You’ was steadily blaring through the speakers that surrounded the living room, and altogether Yamaguchi began feeling overwhelmed. The heat was thick in the air, making him feel like he was trying to breath underwater, and the while the hands that gripped his hips were grounding in a way, he felt confined.

“H-Hey, can we get a drink? I’m thirsty,” he twisted out of the blond’s grasp and leveled his gaze into almond-colored eyes. “Unless you just wanna find someone else to dance with.”

Without meaning it to, Yamaguchi’s last statement came out sounding like a challenge, and he saw something spark in the blond’s eyes. “No way! I’ll never find someone as sexy as you anyway, so let’s go.” With that, he took Yamaguchi’s hand and thread their fingers together, weaving his way through the house and towards the kitchen. Just before they rounded the corner, Yamaguchi pulled them to a quick stop.

“Wait, wait, wait! Listen...” Yamaguchi trailed off, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Terushima Yuuji,” the blond interjected quickly.

“Listen, Teru... My friend is in there and as much as I love him, I know he’s just gonna try and talk me out of any bad decisions I plan on making tonight,” Yamaguchi nibbled on his bottom lip. It wasn’t technically a lie, he was just omitting the very large factor of not wanting to explain his situation with Hinata to Tsukishima.

“Oho, bad decisions, eh?” Terushima’s eyebrows raised. “Alright, so you want me to go in there and get some drinks and meet you somewhere?”

“That’s perfect, you’re perfect!” Yamaguchi nodded happily, clutching at Terushima’s biceps — _oh shit he’s really muscly._

“You’ll be saying that later, Freckles.” Terushima was about to say something else, presumably something that would make Yamaguchi’s face heat up even more, but something on the opposite side of the house caught his eye. Akaashi was being dragged through the sea of dancers by some muscled-up, owl-looking dude. _Was that the Bokuto Koutarou Hinata was talking about?_

“Shit,” Yamaguchi mumbled, not wanting to have to explain himself to Akaashi either, so he did something drastic.

“Everything alright, Freckles— Mmf!” Yamaguchi quickly quieted Terushima by grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling his lips to meet his own. The blond’s hands stayed frozen in the air for only a second before it seemed his instincts kicked in, and they caged Yamaguchi against the wall. There was only a slight height difference between the two of them, but it was a small enough gap that Yamaguchi didn’t feel like he had to crane his neck down to meet his lips, and Terushima didn’t have to strain up to reach him.

He peeked out of half-lidded eyes to make sure that Akaashi was officially out of sight before letting Terushima go, clearing his throat. “I, uh… Thanks. My friend was coming by and I didn’t want him to see, y’know, so I…”

“If you wanted a kiss, Freckles, you coulda just asked,” and with another flirty wink, Terushima darted into the kitchen.

Yamaguchi leaned against the wall, trying to blend in with his surroundings as best as he could in order to not bump into anybody. People continued dancing and he could hear some shouts from an adjacent room, sounding most likely due to the results of some drinking game, and he could feel himself slowly cooling down. He huffed out a calming breath and knocked his head gently back, letting his breathing return to normal. A couple songs played as he waited, and Yamaguchi started doubting Terushima’s return, but before he came to a decision on what to do next, he heard a familiar voice.

“I’ll show _you_ hand-eye coordination, drop your pants!” Yamaguchi watched, mouth agape, as Kuroo swung around the corner, carrying Hinata over his shoulder. Kuroo’s mouth was pressed flat and he looked to be struggling to maintain Hinata in his grasp — which was ridiculous in and of itself. Yamaguchi could easily carry Hinata, so why was Kuroo having so much trouble? Hinata, on the other hand, was calling out to different people that Yamaguchi couldn’t see, dramatically waving farewell as Kuroo carried him up the stairs.

That was it, wasn’t it? Hinata was moving on, and in the best way possible. Not even three days had gone by since they’d broken it off, and there he was being carried off into the sunset by some guy that was built like Captain America. Yamaguchi couldn’t decipher the reason behind the tightening in his chest; he knew that he and Hinata had broke it off for good reasons, but at the moment he couldn’t think of any. Someone was taking _his_ Hinata upstairs to do God knows what — as if he didn’t know what went on behind those closed bedroom doors, but he wanted to try and remain unaware — and he didn’t even spare Yamaguchi a second thought.

_Should it be that easy to move on? Should I be moving on too?_ Questions were overrunning Yamaguchi’s mind, and he hadn’t noticed he’d started chewing on the nail of his thumb until someone tugged it away from his mouth. His eyes darted up to meet that familiar set of light brown, and he felt himself relax ever so slightly.

“You shouldn’t chew on your nails, Bambi,” Terushima chided, holding up a few options for drinks. “I didn’t know what you preferred so I got a little of everythin’.” He took stock of everything that was in the blond’s arms: a couple beers and wine coolers, and what looked to be a fifth of whiskey.

“You’re in luck, Teru,” Yamaguchi drawled, tugging the whiskey from the crook of Terushima’s arm and taking a long swig, hiding a wince behind his hand. “I like anything.”

“Jesus Christ, Bambi. Who’d have thought when you walked in here that you’d be down to party,” Terushima chuckled, his eyes trailing down and back up Yamaguchi’s body slowly, as if savoring the sight. He took one of the beers and drank about half of it before he spoke again.“Did’ya wanna dance more? Or we can go find a couple of my friends and see what they’re up to.”

“Hmm,” Yamaguchi hummed as he took another gulp of the liquor. It had initially burned running down his throat, but now that he was used to the taste it was like drinking something warm on a winter’s evening, and it had Yamaguchi’s body tingling from the tips of his fingers to the heels of his feet. “Are ya just gonna use dancing as an excuse to feel me up?”

“What other reason is there to dance?” Terushima asked cheekily, his smile broadening when he successfully made Yamaguchi laugh. “Hey, you never told me your name, Freckles.”

“Aw, but I like Freckles so much better,” Yamaguchi pouted childishly, but relented. “Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

“Woah, wait…” Terushima’s eyes widened slightly as they roamed Yamaguchi’s face, as if just now seeing him for the first time. “You’re on the tennis team, right? Holy shit! I’ve seen you guys play a couple times — just at the practice matches, I never looked into the official match schedule — but holy shit! You’re the guy that got all those points when you served, didn’t you? You were like untouchable!”

Yamaguchi could feel his face warm up with every word that left Terushima’s lips, and he was almost certain it was _not_ due to the fact that he’d chugged half a fifth of whiskey. Terushima looked at him with such admiration that Yamaguchi couldn’t help but look away, biting his lip.

“Y-Yeah, I guess that was me. I’m not as fast as the rest of the people on my team, and I’m not as good at receives, so I really wanted to work on my serves so I could contribute as best as I could…” Yamaguchi trailed off, looking anywhere but at the man in front of him. When the silence dragged on for a second too long, however, he chanced a glance over.

Terushima’s eyes remained wide, and he looked at Yamaguchi almost as if he was something precious, something to cherish. “Yams! You’re like… Holy shit! I dunno what else to say except _holy shit_! Everything about you is just— Fuck! Can I take you to meet a couple of my friends? They went with me to the games, and I think they’d love to meet you too!” Terushima was already lacing his fingers in Yamaguchi’s free hand, cradling the drinks in his other arm as he led them through the crowd towards the back patio. “Sorry, this is okay, right?”

Yamaguchi tightened his grip on Terushima’s hand and nodded, a small smile gracing his lips. The song had changed to something by 3OH!3 — ‘My First Kiss’, which seemed fitting considering that he’d forced himself onto Terushima not fifteen minutes ago — and the makeshift dance floor was more packed than ever as the people in attendance got more drunk and their decision-making skills lowered exponentially. Terushima’s hand in his was sweaty, but Yamaguchi couldn’t help but appreciate the warmth from his skin as they left the house and the brisk night air hit his damp skin. There were a few people sitting out on the patio with cigarettes in a quiet conversation, but as soon as the door behind them slid open, they turned to greet the newcomers.

“Hey Yuuji, where’ve you been?” A brown-haired man that was leaning against the wooden railing of the patio called out, tilting his head to look between Yamaguchi and Terushima. “Ah, never mind.”

“Don’t be a dick, Kenji,” Terushima rebuked in a lower tone, but the smile on his face gave him away. “Guys, this is Yamaguchi Tadashi. Remember, the guy that did all those service aces during that one tennis game we saw?”

“Oh shit!” Another man, this one with hair similar to Terushima’s but the color was a darker gold color, shot up straight and began bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Dude! We’ve seen, like, a buncha yer games! I’m Miya Atsumu, yer an incredible player!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say _incredible_ ,” Yamaguchi blushed, looking helplessly between Atsumu and Terushima. “I-I’m nowhere near as good as our captain, y’know, and—“

“Ah,” the brown-haired man that had initially spoken up waved his hand, interrupting Yamaguchi. “You’re _all_ really good! It’s not a competition, you know? You all worked hard to get to the positions you’re in, and you’re all incredible because of it.”

“That’s Futakuchi Kenji,” Terushima leaned over, his lips nearly pressed against Yamaguchi’s ear in an attempt to keep quiet. “He acts like a dick but he’s actually a genius. But don’t tell him I said that because then his head will get too big and won’t fit through doors.”

“I heard that,” Futakuchi called out, but he kept his gaze trained out into the small, darkened yard, dragging a long inhale from his cigarette.

“Hey Freckles, y’wanna sit?” Terushima asked, his voice remaining soft as Atsumu plopped back down in his spot next to Futakuchi. “I dunno if you smoke, but—“

“I don’t,” Yamaguchi crinkled his nose, but tugged Terushima’s hand — when had their hands found each other again? — and pulled him to sit down amongst his friends. “But I don’t mind being around people that do.”

Terushima grinned and finally relaxed into a sitting position, breathing a sigh of relief as he could set all the drinks he’d collected down onto the patio flooring. “Good, because not to sound unmanly, but those drinks were gettin’ pretty heavy.”

Yamaguchi snorted, and although normally he’d be anxious about joining an already-established friend group, he fell easily into their conversation. The man that was on Futakuchi’s right side had remained quiet for the first few minutes, but as he grew comfortable with the new addition to the group, he introduced himself as Aone. Once Futakuchi had asked some introductory questions of Yamaguchi, mainly questions about tennis and his major, they all seemed to unwind just a little bit more. Once they’d exhausted topics solely based around Yamaguchi, they talked about some new piercings that they all wanted to get — with Terushima shooting a glance towards Yamaguchi at the mention of belly piercings, but keeping his mouth shut even as his eyes danced with mirth — and about the tattoos they’d been tempted to get recently.

“I’m tellin’ ya, man! You’d look _sick_ with a sleeve!” Terushima shouted, and Yamaguchi laughed at his antics. The more the blond drank, the louder and more animated he seemed to get, and Yamaguchi found himself entranced with watching it happen. His hands would wave around to accentuate his words, and his eyebrows would rise and fall as he spoke, and Yamaguchi caught every motion.

“That’s a lotta ink, man,” Futakuchi hummed in thought, taking a sip of beer and lighting another cigarette. “Ya sure you don’t wanna bum one?”

Terushima shot a quick glance towards Yamaguchi before shaking his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

“You can smoke, y’know?” Yamaguchi said, not for the first time that night. “I already said I don’t mind people that smoke.”

“Yeah, but ‘not minding’ is not the same as liking somebody that smokes, Freckles,” Terushima smiled wide enough that his eyes crinkled at the sides. He was leaning back with the palms of his hands braced on the wooden panels of the deck, and he cocked his head lazily to the side to look Yamaguchi in the eyes as he spoke. “Besides, I might bum one later. Depends on how the night goes.” He might have said something beyond that, but Yamaguchi found himself lost in the dimple on his left cheek.

The implication made Yamaguchi’s face heat up, and for some reason he found himself unable to pull away from Terushima’s gaze. “Oh yeah? And how do you think the night’s gonna go?” His words were slurred — or at least he thought they were, but he couldn’t actually tell. His tongue felt too large for his mouth, so speaking was becoming slightly more difficult as the night wore one.

“Well,” Terushima drawled, pulling himself up so his hands rested in his lap. There was a light blush that rested high on Terushima’s cheekbones, and his hair that had started the night in a nicely slicked-back hairstyle was now disheveled from the amount of times he’d run his hands through it. “I guess it all depends on you, _Tadashi_.”

Yamaguchi shivered slightly and bit down on his bottom lip, glancing over at Terushima’s friends. They’d all decided to meander off further into the yard, the small light emanating from their cigarettes the only indicator that they were out there.When he looked back, those hazy, light brown eyes were looking right into his own, and Yamaguchi felt like he was being pulled, wanting to get lost in them.

“What do you _want_ to happen tonight, Yuuji?” Yamaguchi whispered, unable to get his voice to get any louder. He wasn’t sure if his vision was causing the world to shift around him, but he knew for a fact that their faces were getting much closer than they had been before.

“Tadashi... I-I know we already kissed back inside, but... C-Can I kiss you?” Terushima hiccuped and ran a shaky tongue across his lips, wetting them, and Yamaguchi’s gaze flickered to them.

“Mm,” Yamaguchi was only able to get out a hum in confirmation before their lips were pressed together. The kiss started soft and gentle, just little presses as they tried to get accustomed to each other. Very quickly, however, it turned into something more passion — more hungry. A tongue was pushed past his lips, and Yamaguchi had no choice but to let Terushima search his mouth, grazing the backs of his teeth and the roof of his mouth. A small whimper escaped, and the blond was quick to swallow it as their teeth clattered with the force of the kiss. Something sparked in Yamaguchi’s gut, and all too suddenly he felt that there was too much space between he and Terushima — who in the world decided that he would deign to sit this far away from the sexiest man alive? Because it sure wasn’t him.

With this decision, Yamaguchi quickly clambered into the blond’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and straddling his legs. He felt hands run down his sides and rest on his thighs, squeezing him through his pants and massaging his muscles (which he was grateful for; his practice that morning had really overworked his leg muscles.) He ran his hands along Terushima’s shoulders and then back to rest at the nape of his neck, fiddling with the hair that rested there. The sweat that had pricked their skin earlier that evening had cooled on their skin, but as Yamaguchi ground his hips down once in a teasing manner, he could feel himself rapidly heat up again.

“Fuck, Freckles,” Terushima murmured against his lips, one hand resting lightly on his thigh and the other gripping tightly to his hip. “Shit, you gotta- You gotta do that again.”

“Hm?” Yamaguchi feigned innocence, resting his full weight against Terushima and looking at him with his best impression of doe eyes. “Do what again, exactly?”

Terushima groaned and leaned his head back in mock frustration, biting his lip. “Fuck, Tadashi, please...”

Yamaguchi slowly and torturously began moving his hips, grinding down against Terushima’s while grasping his shoulders for leverage. He could feel the sparks of heat in his lower abdomen as his ass rubbed agains the growing hard-on in Terushima’s pants, but winced when his own brushed against his dick.

“T-Tadashi, I’m not tryin’ to be presumptuous—“

“That’s a big word for someone who downed a fifth of tequila not twenty minutes ago,” Yamaguchi teased, pressing light kisses along the blond’s jawline.

Terushima snorted, but continued. He slowly ran his hands along Yamaguchi’s thighs, his fingers lightly catching on the fabric of his jeans as he spoke. “I-I... Can we go upstairs?”

Yamaguchi pulled back slightly to look the man in the eyes, having to take a moment for the world to stop spinning before he could do so. His eyes felt cloudy, and looking into Terushima’s he could tell the man was around the same amount of intoxication that he was, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. All he knew was that right now he felt good, and he wanted to continue feeling good with someone who looked at him like he was a prize to be won.

Without another moment’s hesitation and with a brief nod, Yamaguchi was pulling himself off Terushima’s lap, and tangling his hand in the blond’s own. He let himself be led back inside and through the house. He strained his neck as they walked by and didn’t see Tsukishima in the kitchen, but he did catch a glimpse of Akaashi with someone, although he couldn’t tell who it was just from the brief flash of black hair. Yamaguchi snickered when Terushima lurched forward, tripping over his own feet, but then jumped right back up to pull the brunet against his body as if it was his intent all along. Neither of them were very steady on their feet, however, with several stumbles and near-falls occurring as they made their way through the hordes of people and up the stairs.

“So you live in this house?” Yamaguchi asked as they came to a closed bedroom door at the end of the hall. The hallway was long, containing several closed off bedrooms and, he’s assuming, a couple bathrooms tucked away as well.

With a nod, Terushima swung the door open and revealed his room. “Yep. I don’t play football, but Aone and Atsumu do, so them’s the perks of being best friends with them, I guess. Atsumu’s the one that wanted to throw the party.” Terushima explained further, anxiously fidgeting in place as Yamaguchi took a moment to explore his room. There were a few band posters placed along the walls that caught his eye, but what really drew his attention was the desk scattered with tons of papers, all containing a collage of different sketches and doodles.

“Did you do all of these?” Yamaguchi asked in awe, picking up a piece of sketch paper with a large drawing of a flower on it. It was extremely detailed and he traced his finger along the lines of the petals, admiring the shading and the blending of colors into one another.

“Ah, yeah... They’re not much, just shit I do in my free time.” Terushima bashfully rubbed the back of his neck, and quietly closing the door and walking over to where Yamaguchi stood at his desk. “D’ya like it?” His voice was small, an almost trusting tone to it leading to the melting of Yamaguchi’s heart.

“Teru, these are beautiful,” Yamaguchi spoke honestly, unable to peel his eyes from the drawings. “Please tell me you’re majoring in something that has to do with art.”

“Ahem, well, uh... No, I’m not. My parent’s didn’t think that my doodles would get me anywhere in life, so I’m majoring in business.” His voice dipped into something slightly darker, almost mocking, as he spoke of his parents, and Yamaguchi felt his heart break.

“Yuuji,” Yamaguchi turned and looked right into Terushima’s eyes, directing all the attention onto himself. “You have so much talent and potential, these are _incredible_. If you wanted to do something with art, I think you should go for it. Fuck your parents, do what is gonna make _you_ happy.”

Terushima eyed Yamaguchi up and down, his gaze deliberately trailing along his face to the point that Yamaguchi felt like he could see into his thoughts. The room stopped spinning as soon as hands cupped his face, thumbs trailing along his cheekbones and over the smattering of freckles that graced his skin. He reached forward, gripping the blond’s shirt tightly in his fists as if grounding himself otherwise he’d float away, and they just stared hazily at one another for longer than he could count.

“Y-You’re bea-beautiful, Tadashi,” Terushima spoke softly, his voice garbled as he stammered through the compliment.It seemed that the alcohol was affecting him more as time went on, and Yamaguchi wasn’t faring any better. His eyes felt like they were rolling around in his skull, and his heart was pounding out of his chest — but that could have been due to the fact that he was looking dead in the eyes of the man he wanted to ride until they couldn’t remember their own names.

“T-Teru,” Yamaguchi hiccuped, and then his lips were occupied once more. They awkwardly stumbled across the room, hands fumbling for purchase on each other’s bodies as they harshly tugged on one another’s clothes.

“Off,” Terushima commanded, his voice muffled with Yamaguchi’s lips still against his own. They only broke apart long enough for Yamaguchi’s shirt to be peeled off his body, tossed carelessly into the room as they fell backwards on the bed. Yamaguchi looked up at Terushima with half-lidded eyes and followed suit with Terushima’s shirt, running his fingertips lightly across the exposed flesh. His eyes zeroed in on two small glints of silver, and he couldn’t help the outward groan that escaped his lips, causing Terushima to draw back slightly. “Wha? Wha’s wrong?”

“You have _nipple piercings_ , Yuuji, Jesus fuck,” Yamaguchi cursed, his fingertips delicately tracing around the piercings, provoking Terushima into a full-body shiver. Their lips met again in a mess of tongues and a clash of teeth, nails dragging against skin and whimpers soft in the silence of the darkened room. The only light shined from its spot on Terushima’s desk, and the shadows moved along their bodies and the walls behind them as they writhed on the bed, trying to get impossibly closer to one another.

Terushima pressed kisses down Yamaguchi’s face and along his jawline, reveling in the small gasps and moans he was drawing out from the man beneath him. He nipped and sucked down his neck and collarbone, leaving behind blossoming purple and red marks on the otherwise unmarked skin. Much to the embarrassment of Yamaguchi, Terushima made sure to place brief pecks on every freckle he came across, lavishing his tongue over the marks he’d made and taking pleasure in the blush that made its way down Yamaguchi’s chest.

The tongue that laved over Yamaguchi’s skin made his body involuntarily shudder, and he flopped his head back onto the pillow with a huff as his eyes rolled back. Amid the gasps and mewls he let out, he couldn’t help but find himself thinking back to the last time he’d been in this situation, where a much smaller body was on top of his, and a hotter tongue was tracing his skin. Red hair, fiery amber eyes, and calloused fingers were now replaced by tousled blond hair, light brown eyes murky with intoxication, and long, nimble fingers that spread over the width of his torso. The fluttering in Yamaguchi’s stomach suddenly brought him back to the situation, and he reached out and tugged gently at Terushima’s hair. When the latter didn’t falter in his ministrations, eyes half-lidded and dark with lust, Yamaguchi felt tears begin to well up in the corners of his eyes.

“T-Teru, wait,” Yamaguchi panted, just as the blond had reached the halfway point down his freckled body. The waver in his voice made the blond stop immediately, pulling back and cupping Yamaguchi’s face in his hands, eyes searching.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Terushima peppered Yamaguchi with questions, and at the clear disdain in the man’s face, Yamaguchi found himself crying and unable to stop himself.

“I-I’m s-sorry, Teru,” he sobbed, scooting up in the bed and brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his shins to curl himself into as small of a ball as possible.

“Wait, Tadashi, please…” Terushima quickly crawled beside the freckled man, putting his hands gently on top of his knees. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no you didn’t,” Yamaguchi shook his head profusely, frustrated at himself for letting his thoughts get away from him. “I’m sorry, I’m a mess.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Terushima lightly ran his thumbs in circles on the sides of Yamaguchi’s legs, his eyes showcasing his fatigue but his face held a determined expression. “I hate to see you so upset.”

“My boyfriend and I broke up a couple days ago. I mean, it was mutual, and we both knew that it wasn’t going anywhere, so I don’t know why I’m so upset over it,” Yamaguchi admitted with a self-deprecating shrug.

“How long were you together?”

“Three months.”

“Ah,” Terushima nodded his head in understanding. “Even if you guys didn’t love each other romantically, it seems like there was still _some_ kind of love there, right? If you weren’t upset about it ending, that means you never really enjoyed yourself to begin with. Besides, the end of something is always at least a little sad, and that just proves that it was something worth doing, right?”

Yamaguchi let those words sink in as Terushima made himself comfortable beside him, his arm coming to rest on his shoulders. “Wow, so you’re a philosophical drunk,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Terushima grunted out an exhausted laugh, his eyes barely cracked open as he tugged Yamaguchi into his arms, allowing them both to stretch out the length of the bed and rest their heads on the pillows. “Sure, I guess. I mean, you kinda look like just a freckled blob to me right now, but sure.”

They both snickered as their eyes fought to remain open. “T-Teru, do you wan’ me to go?”

“Mnm,” Terushima shook his head, burying his face in the crook of Yamaguchi’s neck and pressing a kiss to the skin there. “Stay. Please?”

And how could Yamaguchi fight that? He gazed up at the ceiling, warmth surrounding him as Terushima cuddled close against his body like a koala, and he willed his mind to slow down enough for sleep to overtake him. The world continued spinning, his eyes felt disconnected from his own head, and his heart felt heavy in his chest. Yamaguchi hadn’t wanted to accept the weakness he’d felt the past couple days, but now that he was finally alone with his thoughts, he had to embrace the fact that he was struggling. But with Terushima’s arms around him and the knowledge that at least a _couple_ people had seen and admired his skills in tennis, he knew deep down that whatever happened next, that he’d be okay. With that thought, his eyelids grew heavier and sleep finally engulfed his consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bokuakabeam)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying something new with my writing here, so let me know what you think! :)
> 
> Scream at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bokuakabeam)


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